Harry Potter Morgendorffer
by Meester Lee
Summary: What if Minerva McGonagall successfully persuaded Albus Dumbledore not to place baby Harry Potter with the Dursleys, but instead place him with another of Lily Evans Potter's blood relatives: Helen Barksdale Morgendorffer? What would happen as she tries to place the Boy Who Lived with a young family in 1981 Austin, Texas?
1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter Morgendorffer Part One

Daria is the creation of Glenn Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. Harry Potter is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling and Warner Brothers. I own neither property, and neither expect nor deserve financial compensation for this effort. I am writing for my own amusement and ego gratification.

This chapter replaces the original chapter one after the author received newer, more accurate information. Thank you duj for briefing me on babies' nursing and weaning.

Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer

The owls were still flying by daylight throughout the British Isles, fireworks were still exploding by night, and people from Britain's wizarding world were so overcome by joy that they were still dancing in the streets where they could be seen by Muggles, but not in this part of Surrey. Little Whinging was a very respectable community, and that sort of revelry simply wasn't done here, thank you. Now move along.

The gray and black tabby had been surveiling the house at number four Privet Drive for over a day now. She was not a happy cat. Despite, or perhaps because of, the fact she had not been taken in and fed, she did not approve of what she'd seen.

The sun went down and night fell upon Privet Drive. The cat remained at her post.

The night deepened. Around midnight, the strangest things began to happen. An old man dressed much like a Muggle imagined a wizard would dress appeared out of thin air. He pulled out something that looked very much like a cigarette lighter and pointed it at the nearest street lamp. As the old man walked along, the light from the short street's lamps went out one after the other.

As he approached Number Four Privet Drive, he saw the gray and black tabby sitting on the driveway. The cat looked at him, then cocked her head.

"And a good evening to you, too, Professor McGonagall," he said.

The cat glared at him, stepped half a pace forward, and began to transform herself into an elderly bespectacled witch.

"Albus, is it true?" she asked. "Are the Potters dead?"

"I'm afraid so, Minerva," he said. "Voldemort fell, but the Potters lost their lives. The only survivor of Voldemort's last attack was their baby Harry."

Minerva McGonagall lowered her head, squeezed her eyes shut, and gave a long sigh of grief. She'd loved both James and Lily, and hoped against hope that they'd somehow managed to survive Voldemort's attack.

"Little Harry is all that's left of the Potters," said Professor Dumbledore. "And it's best that we place him here, someplace out of the wizarding world, someplace where he can grow up safe, loved, and cared-for until it is time for him to return to our world. Fortunately for young Harry, he has his Aunt Petunia. I'm sure that she's willing to take in the boy."

"Albus," said Minerva with a touch of alarm. "Surely you're not serious about placing Baby Harry with these people?"

"Indeed I am, Minerva," said Professor Dumbledore. "Harry needs to grow up someplace safe, someplace far from the wizarding world."

"I beg you not to place Harry with these people," said Minerva, urgency in her voice. "I've been watching these people all day. These are the very worst sort of Muggles I can imagine!"

"But we cannot keep him in the wizarding world," said Professor Dumbledore. "All that fame and adulation, for something he did that he cannot remember? The boy's head would be swollen with pride and his heart swollen with vanity. Placing him with non-magical relatives is the best way I can think of to keep that from happening. Surely this is the best place for him."

"Albus," said Minerva, "Listen to me. Petunia Dursley is an angry woman poisoned by envy. Both she and her husband are obsessed with appearing what Muggles call normal. We don't _**have**_ to place Harry with these people!"

"But there are no Evanses left save for his aunt to care for the boy!" said Professor Dumbledore. "Nor are there any other Meigs or Bowens for that matter!"

"All true, but this house would still be a horrible place for him," said Minerva. "But there are other—"

"But the wards would only work if the master or the mistress of the household is a blood relative," said Professor Dumbledore.

"It is true that there are no Meigs or Bowens left to care for young Harry," said Minerva, "but there are Barksdales."

"Barksdales?" said Professor Dumbledore bewilderedly.

"Barksdales," said Professor McGonagall. "Lily Potter wasn't related to the Bowens. Jasper Bowen wasn't really her grandfather. Her real grandfather was an American named Allen Barksdale."

"So why was Lily's mother a Bowen?" asked Professor Dumbledore.

"Because Jasper Bowen was a good man with a big heart who dearly loved Lily's grandmother and raised Lily's mother as if she were his own flesh and blood," said Minerva. "It wouldn't be the first time such a thing happened in their world—or ours."

"Still, Lily's sister is little Harry's closest blood kin," began Professor Dumbledore.

"Which as may be. But I still remember the time that I talked to Lily's family before she went off to Hogwarts and I remember my visit to her family the Christmas holiday before she graduated," said Professor McGonagall. "Her older sister Petunia was a resentful, jealous, hateful young woman, and I've seen little evidence that she's changed for the better while I've been watching her family."

"I beg you, Albus, _don't_ place the boy with these people. The boy would be far better off if we could place him with foster parents who would love and care for him," said Professor McGonagall.

"But we need the blood wards to protect him until he is of age," said Professor Dumbledore.

"Would this Allen Barksdale's other descendants be closely enough related that the spells based on the ties of blood would work?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"Yes," said Professor Dumbledore reluctantly.

"Well, then, we might have another set of options before we set Harry Potter on the Dursleys' doorstep, don't we?" said Professor McGonagall. _Maybe_ , she thought, _just_ **maybe** _I convince him_ not _to place the boy with Petunia Dursley_.

Minerva decided to fire another shot. "And if you wish to keep the boy hidden from the wizarding world of Britain, wouldn't America be even better than this part of Surrey?" said Professor McGonagall.

Professor Dumbledore stood there, lost in thought. Minerva watched him, wondering if he would listen to reason or decide to proceed with his original intention of placing Baby Harry on the Dursleys' doorstep.

"All right, Minerva, you've convinced me not to place Harry with the Dursleys this evening. We can explore your alternative before we decide what to do. We can look over this Allen Barksdale and his descendants in America to see if any of them might be more suitable foster-parents before we hand Harry over to Petunia and her husband Vernon."

Minerva McGonagall gave a sigh of relief.

The old wizard continued to mull the matter. "Assuming that your notion proves a good one, these Barksdales might prove a better choice than Lily's sister and her husband," he said. "So what do we do while we look them over to see if any of them would be suitable foster parents?"

"We can keep Harry over at the Weasleys'," said Professor McGonagall. "Lily told me in one of her last letters that Harry has been weaned, but Molly is still nursing her baby Ginerva,in case I'm mistaken. I suspect that she'd be glad to care for him for a few days."

"So be it, then," said Professor Dumbledore with the grace of a gentleman who realized that he was on the wrong end of a losing argument.

There was a loud rumbling sound and a light in the sky as a motorcycle descended onto the asphalt of Privet Drive. Hagrid was delivering Baby Harry to Privet Drive, just as he'd been told to do when other members of the Order converged on the Potter house after James' and Lily's deaths.

"I've got little Harry, Sir," said Hagrid. "I got him out of the house before the Muggles could swarm Lily's and James' house and discover what really happened."

"Where did you get the motorcycle, Hagrid?" asked Professor Dumbledore.

"Borrowed it," said Hagrid. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me."

"Hagrid, we've made a change of plan," said Professor Dumbledore. "We're taking Harry to the Burrow. Minerva here convinced me to look up some of poor Lily's other Muggle relatives before we place him with the Dursleys."

"So I get a few more hours with the little fellow, sir?" said Hagrid. "Thank you, Sir. I wouldn't mind more time with the little tyke. I'll get him to the Burrow safe and sound, don't you worry."

The half-giant remounted the motorcycle, started it again, and drove it away, its wheels leaving the ground before he reached the end of the block. Minerva McGonagall apparated away, as did Professor Dumbledore, using the light putter-outer to disgorge the balls of light he'd collected earlier as he walked to someplace discreet where he could apparate away, too. That small park he'd spotted a few blocks away in an earlier visit looked like it might serve.

Vernon Dursley awoke to the sound of a rumbling motorcycle receding into the distance. He wondered what sort of hooligan would be riding a motorcycle in this part of Little Whinging at this time of night. He had his suspicions, but the young hoodlums were too far away for a good talking-to. Maybe he could confront them in the morning.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry Potter Morgendorffer FF Part Two

Daria is the creation of Glenn Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. Harry Potter is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling and Warner Brothers. I own neither, and neither expect nor deserve financial compensation for this story. I am writing for my own amusement and for ego gratification.

Molly Weasley had been crushed by the news about the Potters. Nevertheless, that Prewett part of her that allowed her to survive the devastation of her own family was still strong enough to agree to take in Harry for a few days. She supported Minerva's decision to place Harry with someone other than the Dursleys. Despite the fact that she hadn't met either Petunia or Vernon Dursley, she knew enough of Lily's wishes to know that Lily would not have wanted to place Baby Harry with her older sister.

Minerva McGonagall's contacts soon turned up leads as to the identity of Allen Barksdale and where his family resided. Kenneth Spaeth, a Ravenclaw she'd fondly remembered, assisted her search; he had gone to ground in the Muggle world rather than openly defy Lord Voldemort. Kenneth had had the natural curiosity of a Ravenclaw, and Minerva was not surprised to learn that he was working as an investigator for a Muggle detective agency. Despite his withdrawal from the wizarding world, however, he was willing to quietly do favors for his old transfiguration teacher. Using both Muggle and magical means, he was able to confirm the identity of Allen Barksdale and discover his last known whereabouts.

Kenneth Speath sent his report to his old Transfiguration professor by a trusted courier. Professor McGonagall learned that Allen Barksdale had two siblings: an older brother, a bomber pilot who had perished in the Pacific during the Second Great Muggle War, and an older sister. After Allen Barksdale had returned from Europe in the mid-1940's, he married a Lillian Heath. He had since died of a stroke, but not before he and his wife Lilian had had three daughters: Rita, Helen, and Amy. Professor McGonagall chose to approach Allen Barksdale's widow first. She worried that Mrs. Barksdale might have died or become incapacitated herself; Muggles so often died of ailments that wizarding healing could have cured. Taking an unscheduled leave of absence from her teaching duties and from her duties as head of Gryffindor House and deputy headmistress of Hogwarts, Minerva packed a checked suitcase and a large carry-on bag filled with scroll-work, Minerva took a red-eye flight across the Atlantic aboard a Muggle airliner.

She did not travel alone. Her companion was Della Braden, one of Alice Longbottom's cousins. Della, unlike her cousin Alice, did not have the courage to openly defy Voldemort and the Death Eaters during the Wizarding War. Instead, she had argued that she would best serve the cause by remaining in the background and providing supplies and, when needed, hiding places and healing for Order members. What with the Dark Lord now defeated and his Death Eaters captured, killed, or in hiding, Della felt safe enough to assist Minerva's search as a sort of amend for failing to protect her cousin from the death eater attack that drove her cousin and Frank Longbottom into madness. Despite the fact that she herself had married within the wizarding community , Della had some faculty with Muggle travel, money, and technologies, thanks to instruction by a Muggle brother-in-law.

Despite her limited North American contacts, Minerva McGonagall was able to draw on the resources of Ilvermorny, the principal magical school for the eastern United States and eastern Canada. Making use of Ilvermorny's alumni network, Minerva was able to find a place to stay near Richmond, which she and Della used to establish a base of operations for her search. Minerva didn't tell her Ilvermorny alumna hostess the whole truth, that she was trying to place Harry Potter with blood relatives; instead, she said that she was trying to place the baby of Wizarding War-casualties with family as a final favor to old family friends.

Minerva was relieved to learn that Lillian Heath Barksdale was still alive and in good health. Surprisingly, Lillian Barksdale was aware that the wizarding world existed, even if she was woefully under-informed as to the details. She did, however, inform Professor McGonagall that she wasn't interested in raising another child. Mrs. Barksdale suggested that the Professor should canvass her three daughters to see if they might be willing to take on another infant.

Minerva's setback and her continuing grief over the loss of the Potters and so many others cause Minerva to spend the next day or so in a state of depression. Despite Professor Dumbledore's reassurances, she worried that the Barksdale daughters' ties of blood would be too weak to allow the protections while trying to contact Allen and Lillian Barksdales' children. The first Barksdale daughter Minerva was able to contact was Amy Barksdale, who told her that while she appreciated the honor, she was still unmarried and not yet ready to adopt and raise a child.

The second Barksdale daughter was Rita. Rita was married, had a daughter of her own, but balked at adopting another child, even with the stipend that the Potters had provided in their final instructions. Minerva was less than sanguine about finding a suitable adoptive parent among Alden Barksdale's older sister's family; she worried that Baby Harry might yet have to go live with the Weasleys. She hoped and prayed that Helen Morgendorffer, the middle Barksdale daughter, might make a suitable adoptive mother for Baby Harry.

Austin, Texas November, 1981

Hyde Park neighborhood, underneath a parked Chevrolet Silverado pick-up truck

Professor McGonagall had been running the stake-out at the Morgendorffers' rented house. She had thought that observing Lily's American relatives would be no more dangerous than surveilling the Dursleys in Surrey. She was quickly disabused of that notion. Despite being well within the city's boundaries, there were not only dogs, but several different species of wild creatures with scant regard or tolerance for cats, even transfigured cats like she was. She quickly learned that raccoons were more than willing to bully the incautious feline that impinged on their territory or presumed to eat or drink pet food or water they desired for themselves. Minerva scarcely escaped being attacked by another creature with a long snout and long pink tail that she devoutly hoped wasn't a rodent. There were also several species of snake that made their appearance at odd moments, and she wasn't too sure which were poisonous and which ones weren't. She didn't see them but she certainly smelled with her cat's senses a horrid smell that she feared must be some variety or other of skunk.

Still, her stake-out, mostly conducted from underneath a neighbor's parked automobile, had produced results. Helen Morgendorffer did exist, and she was indeed married to Jake Morgendorffer. The Morgendorffers had a child of their own, a one and a half year-old named Daria. There was also a strong family resemblance; Helen's hair was the same shade of auburn as Lily's, and her face looked far, far more like poor Lily's than did Petunia Dursley's. The resemblance was even stronger in little Daria's case; she not only shared the same hair color and complexion, but also Lily's green eye-color.

But if Minerva was satisfied with the physical resemblance between Helen Morgendorffer and poor Lily, she was concerned with the Morgendorffers' emotional stability. The father was definitely a bit tetched, and Minerva was concerned that Helen might be letting her work distract her from child-raising. Still, Minerva could tell that they loved and cared for their eldest daughter, Helen was blood-kin, and somehow Professor McGonagall knew that little Harry would fare far better with these people than he would with Lily's horrid sister and her horrible husband.

Alive, but feeling that she'd had multiple hair's-breadth escapes from serious injury or worse at the hands of suburban Texas wildlife, not to mention Muggle automobile traffic, she retired at the end of her shift to her hotel room. She poured herself a stiff drink, and sat down holding the whiskey glass and trying to steady her nerves.

"Rough day?" asked Della. Della was waiting for her in the hotel room. Della had spent most of the day minding little Harry and in conversation with officials from MACUSA about the legal ins and outs of placing a British Wizarding War orphan with an American family. Thus far, Della's conversations with American officialdom had concerned general adoption question; she hadn't had to mention that the baby in question was THE Harry Potter, the Boy That Lived. For that matter, she and Minerva didn't want to mention that the baby she was minding was THE Harry Potter, at least not until Minerva was satisfied that the Morgendorffers would make tolerable adoptive parents.

"Aye," said Minerva, stressed emough by a final confrontation between a calico tom cat under another parked automobile on one side of her post and a threat by a large wild creature with a long pink tail on the other, that her childhood Scots idiom reappeared. "It wasn't the neighbors so much as the wildlife. I knew about cats and dogs before I left Britain, of course. I also had heard of raccoons, but I thought those were only found out in the country. But these parts not only have those, but also creatures that look like overgrown rats with even pointier snouts."

"I think those are called opossums," said Della. "They're not rodents. They're actually marsupials, like kangaroos."

"What are they doing here?" asked Minerva.

"Obviously they've adapted to city life," replied Della. "Aside from the animals, how did your observation of the Muggles go?"

"The da is a bit tetched," said Minerva. "I overheard him ranting about his own father several times. I think that the mother doesn't pay enough attention to her children. I fear that she neglects her child in favor of her work. If she doesn't mend her ways, I fear that she could well become what the Americans call a work-aholic."

"Well, do you think we should place little Harry with these Morgendorffers?" asked Della.

"In an ideal world, I'd say no," said Minerva. "I fear that the Morgendorffers are dottier than I'd hoped. But Albus insists that Harry's home would need magical protection, and that the protections would only work if the master or mistress of the home has close ties of blood with him. Helen Morgendorffer is Lily Potter's aunt. I don't see the Morgendorffers as being a good choice, but it may be the best choice available. And, for all the Morgendorffers' faults, l think that Baby Harry's chances for coming out of childhood as a happy and loved adult are better than they would be if I'd given in to Albus' wishes and placed him with Petunia Dursley."


	3. Chapter 3

Harry Potter Morgendorffer FF Part Three

 _Daria_ is the creation of Glenn Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. _Harry Potter_ is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling and Warner Brothers. I own neither, and neither expect nor deserve financial compensation for this story. I am writing for my own amusement and for ego gratification.

What if Minerva McGonagall had been able to persuade Professor McGonagall to place baby Harry Potter with different blood relatives instead of with Petunia Dursley and her husband: the Morgendorffers from MTV's _Daria_?

Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer

Austin, Texas November 1981 The Following Evening

Professor McGonagall found Austin's mid-November warmth pleasant but disorienting. If this was the Scottish Highlands, it would already be cold and as likely as not be snowing. But however pleasant mid-November Austin might be, both Professor McGonagall and Della Bradenn found themselves perspiring.

After having apparated in and out of the Morgendorffer home while both parents and their child were away and discovering no apparent signs of drug abuse of excessive drinking, Minerva McGonagall decided that her covert surveillance was over and done, and spent the rest of the morning visiting the campus of the University of Texas at Austin.

It was mid November but still surprisingly warm. Both Professor McGonagall and Della Braden found themselves perspiring. Having concluded that Jake and Helen Morgendorffers would make adequate, if not ideal parents, Minerva McGonagall decided that it was time to interview them personally. It was now in the late afternoon and both Helen and Jake Morgendorffer had returned to their rented house after work.

Della and Baby Harry had spent the morning learning the basics about riding Austin's Muggle bus-riding and visiting a equestrians' store called Capital Saddlery admiring horse tack. She'd spent the afternoon talking with officials from MACUSA's Bureau of Health and Human Services about the adoption process in the magical parts of North America and how to integrate MACUSA's processes with those of the Muggles. Della was uncomfortably aware that she didn't understand all the legal fine points, and that she and Minerva would need legal assistance in placing baby Harry with the Morgendorffers.

Now they stood together in front of the Morgendorffers' front door with Baby Harry. Neither were dressed in Muggle clothing; MACUSA officials and Minerva's experience had reassured them that this part of Austin was laid-back enough so that wearing wizarding wear would not arouse exceptional notice by the neighbors. If the Muggles pressed them for an explanation, a MACUSA official told them, they could claim that they were members of something called the SCA. Members of the Society for Creative Anachronism could frequently be found wandering Austin's more bohemian neighborhoods dressed in odd clothing.

Minerva McGonagall rang the Morgendorffers' doorbell. _I am afraid that this might come a cropper_ , she said to herself, _but nothing for it_.

Helen Morgendorffer was the Morgendorffer parent that opened the front door. She looked at the two oddly-dressed women standing in front of her door. One of them, the brown-haired woman, might have been an aging hippy. The other looked like a stereotypical witch. The aging hippy held what looked like a baby boy about the same age as her Daria.

"Excuse me," said the old witch. "Are you Helen Barksdale Morgendorffer?"

"I am Helen Morgendorffer," the young auburn-haired mother replied.

"Permit me to introduce myself," said the old witch. "My name is Minerva McGonagall, this is Della Braden, and this little fellow is Harry Potter. We have important matters to discuss. May we come in?"

Helen wasn't the hippie of several years ago that would allow complete strangers into her home without thinking, but she knew of very few scam artists who made their pitches carrying babies. She decided to let these people in and have their say.

"Your father was Allen Barksdale, was he not?" said Minerva.

"The reason we came by is that young Harry here is an orphan, and you are one of his closest living relatives. This baby is your grand-nephew," said Minerva.

"I beg your pardon?" said Helen. "This doesn't seem likely. My father and my mother didn't marry until 1947 and they didn't start having children until 1950, when my older sister was born. I was born in 1952, and my younger sister Amy wasn't born until 1957.

"But your father was born in 1919, and he was in Britain when Harry's grandmother was working in London, so it is not only possible, but it did happen," said Minerva.

Helen thought about it and concluded that as outlandish as this old woman's claim was, it was on the truthful edge of plausibility. Her father had been in the US Foreign Service in Britain before the US formally entered World War II and had talked about his experiences during the early years of the war as well as what it was like being a civilian on the ground during the Battle of Britain. Like men of his generation, he did not talk about any romantic affairs he'd had while he was living abroad. He certainly wouldn't discuss the existence of any offspring he might have had as a result of those affairs with her and her sisters, and she doubted that he would have talked about them with her mother, either.

So, for the sake of argument, she decided to accept the existence of an unacknowledged older sister. So how could she end up with a grand-nephew? The boy looked about Daria's age, which meant that the boy's mother could have been born somewhere between 1955 and 1965. The hypothetical niece must also have been young when she gave birth to this boy's mother, and the boy's mother would have been around twenty herself when she gave birth to this boy. Helen pursed her lips in disapproval. It wasn't quite the same thing as a high school pregnancy, but it was still very early. So this McGonagall woman's claim could be true, although Helen wasn't sure she believed it.

"Something tells me there's more," said Helen.

"That's the other thing," said Minerva. "We're witches."

At that pronouncement, Helen looked at Minerva with the sort of glance Minerva had gotten from more than a few Muggle-born witches' parents just before they ordered her to get out of their houses.

Minerva had thought this would likely, so she drew her wand and turned Jake's footstool into a pig. The footstool ran around the living room oinking in disorientation while Helen's eyes bulged in surprise. Minerva then waved her wand again and the footstool-pig again resumed being sedate and stationary furniture. She had to perform two more spells and Della had to perform her color-changing butterfly spell before Helen was fully convinced.

Helen sat down. This was a lot to take in.

"You realize that these are still extraordinary claims," said Helen. "I can accept that you're witches, but I'm not fully satisfied that little Harry here is legally my great-nephew."

"I am all too aware how you could see that they would be, but they are nevertheless true," said Minerva.

"I suppose you have proof," said Helen. The baby boy, Harry was his name, was cute.

Professor McGonagall looked past the affable mask that Helen put on and saw the wary, razor-sharp mind underneath. She approved.

"We've interviewed your mother and your sisters. Your mother informed us that she was not willing to raise another child. Your older sister Rita was not willing to take in Harry and your younger sister Amy hasn't even married yet."

"Your mother was surprised to see that her late husband Allen had sowed some wild oats. Her attitude softened a bit when we told her about the stipend. I don't think she's quite ready to see little Harry as part of the family, but she may come around in time."

"You will forgive me if I choose to check on what you've said," said Helen. She stood up. "If you will excuse me, I should be back in a few minutes," she said with what looked like a reassuring smile.

Della had remained quiet in the conversation. She'd been minding Harry and listening to Minerva and Mrs. Morgendorffer go at it, but she had enough attention to hear the back door open and the trod of male footsteps in what must be the kitchen. She overheard a rushed but intense conversation between husband and wife, then the man stepped out into the living room and looked at the two women and the baby in surprise, his wife accompanying him.

"This is my husband Jacob Morgendorffer," said Helen.

"Uh, Helen, who are these women?" asked Jake.

"Jake, these women are Minerva McChronical and Della Braden," said Helen.

"Minerva McGonagall," said the Scottish witch.

"Della Braden," said the woman who looked like an older hippie.

"I need to make some phone calls," said Helen. "Jake, could you keep these ladies company while I make them?"

"So, Mr. Morgendorffer, how long have you and Mrs. Morgendorffer been married?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"We've been married about nine years," said Jake. "We married after we graduated from Middleton University."

"Have you lived here long?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"No," replied Jake. "We tried living on a commune in Iowa for several years, then gave up when we realized that it wasn't working out. We moved to Austin, I got a regular job, then my wife went to law school. She graduated last year. My wife passed the bar exam, so she's now a full-blown lawyer, but it's tough getting a job right here in Austin. We may have to move."

"Mr. Morgendorffer, may I ask where you went to school before you went to university?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"I went to Buxton Ridge Military Academy for six years," said Jake in as neutral a voice as he could manage.

"Did you enjoy yourself there?" asked Professor McGonagall.

Jake took measured breaths as he fought to maintain control. "No, ma'am, I didn't," he said.

Professor McGonagall wasn't the legilimens that Professor Dumbledore was, but she could tell that Mr. Morgendorffer hated his time at Buxton Ridge with passion. She hoped that wouldn't present problems for young Harry should the Morgendorffers take him in and the time came around for Harry to enroll at Hogwarts. Considering Mr. Morgendorffer's powerful reaction to his time at that Buxton Ridge place, it very well could be.

She decided to change the subject, and change it quickly.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry Potter Morgendorffer Part Four

 _Daria_ is the creation of Glenn Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. _Harry Potter_ is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling and Warner Brothers. I own neither, and neither expect nor deserve financial compensation for this story. I am writing for my own amusement and for ego gratification.

What if Minerva McGonagall had been able to persuade Professor McGonagall to place baby Harry Potter with different blood relatives instead of with Petunia Dursley and her husband: the Morgendorffers from MTV's _Daria_?

Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer

Jake and the two older visitors continued to make small talk while Helen was on the phone first with her mother, then with her older sister Rita. Della handed little Harry over to Jake. Jake played a little with Harry, Harry giggled and smiled, but then crawled over to the side of where Jake was sitting.

"So who is this?" said Della, as an auburn-haired baby crawled into the small living room to look at the strange adults.

"This is my daughter Daria," said Jake, bending over and picking her up.

Daria looked across from her father's lap at Baby Harry with a look that said "Who's he and what's he doing here?"

"Daria, can you say Hello to these nice ladies?" said Jake.

Daria stared at the two witches for a moment, frowned, then turned her head away. Minerva was struck by the baby's green eyes; they looked so much like Lily's.

"Sorry," said Jake, "but she's not very sociable."

"May I hold her?" asked Della.

Jake looked at Della Braden and decided that this was a woman who he could trust. He picked up baby Daria and handed her to Della.

Daria squirmed, kicked, and turned her head away. In spite of that, it didn't take Della Braden very long to charm Daria long enough for her to feel comfortable sitting with her.

In the meantime, Jake resumed trying to make friends with Baby Harry. Harry was wary of Jake at first, but then decided that this big guy was OK, even if he wasn't Dad, Padfoot, or Moony, then settled down.

"Hey, fella, you look like somebody who's had a rough time, haven't you?" said Jake, holding Harry in his arms..

Helen came in a few minutes later. "I've just talked to my mother," she said. "You managed to impress her. She thinks you're legitimate."

"She also informed me that there is an organization in the US called MACUSA which handles social programs and legal matters for magical people. I'd like to be put in touch with it so I can talk to a couple of their representatives about Baby Harry's status and the ins and outs of legal adoption." Minerva could hear the undertones as clear as crystal; two strange women came into her home, claimed they were witches, and then claimed that the strange baby they brought with them was some sort of relatives. Helen Morgendorffer was not about to risk her career and her family on accusations of baby-napping by criminal extortionists.

Minerva McGonagall approved. Clearly there was more depth to Helen Morgendorffer than she'd thought. Helen Morgendorffer might be a Muggle and might not have believed that witchcraft was real or knowingly had any dealings with witches until a few minutes ago, but she didn't let the existence of real magic overwhelm her. Instead, she started cross-checking Minerva's background story. She'd begun by consulting with her mother and her sister to see if she and Della had visited them, then started asking about the legal aspects of adopting little Harry. After somehow finding out about the existence of the American magical government, Mrs. Morgendorffer then demanded to be put in touch with representatives. Minerva decided that despite Helen Morgendorffer's "workaholism," she not only had intelligence but mettle as well. Despite the differences of age, nationality, and parentage, she could see that this woman sprung from the same base stock that gave birth to Lily Evans Potter.

"By your account, I'm only Harry's great-aunt," said Helen. "Obviously my sister had at least one daughter. Can you tell me about her family?"

"Yes," said Minerva. "Your older sister married Broderick Bowen and had a daughters. Her daughter married Garry Evans. They in turn had two daughters: Petunia and Lily. The younger sister, Lily Evans Potter, was Harry's mother. The older sister was Petunia Evans Dursley."

"Are Rose and Broderick still living?" asked Helen.

"No," said Minerva. She noted Helen's reaction; she looked disturbed. Quite understandably; Rose was only fourteen years older than she was.

"Is this Petunia still living?" asked Helen.

"She is. She lives in a town near London called Little Whinging and is married to a Vernon Dursley," Minerva replied.

"And what happened to Lily?" asked Helen.

"Lily and her husband were murdered by a multiple murderer who called himself Lord Voldemort. She died defending her baby," said Minerva.

"And Lily's older sister. Why didn't she choose to take in Harry after her sister and her husband died? She is closer kin than I am," said Helen. Even without Albus Dumbledore's legilimency, Minerva could hear the sub-text: _"I'm still not entirely convinced that this Lily Potter was my niece, and I suspect that there is a lot more that you aren't telling me. You'd better not tell me that this woman and her husband were involved in drugs or money-laundering."_

"I'd like to talk to these MACUSA people and talk to them soon," said Helen. "Then I'd like to talk to this Petunia to discuss her sister and how she died."

Some rumor she'd heard somewhere recurred to her: something about witches using owls and ravens to communicate with each other.

"How do you people communicate with each other?" asked Helen.

"We use owls and the floo," said Minerva, caught off-balance.

"I don't have either," said Helen. "We do have a telephone and I've recently gotten an e-mail account set up. Can you get these MACUSA people to use either one of them?"

"We can set up another meeting tomorrow, if that's convenient."

Helen thought about her schedule. "I'd be willing to talk again tomorrow, but I'm not sure we can do much business. It's a weekend, and I suspect that this MACUSA takes the weekend off like everybody else."


	5. Chapter 5

Harry Potter Morgendorffer FF Part Five

 _Daria_ is the creation of Glenn Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. _Harry Potter_ is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling and Warner Brothers. I own neither, and neither expect nor deserve financial compensation for this story. I am writing for my own amusement and for ego gratification.

What if Minerva McGonagall had been able to persuade Professor McGonagall to place baby Harry Potter with different blood relatives instead of with Petunia Dursley and her husband: the Morgendorffers from MTV's _Daria_?

Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer

I don't have either," said Helen. "We do have a telephone and I've recently gotten an e-mail account set up. Can you get these MACUSA people to use either one of them?"

"I don't know," said Minerva. "We can set up another meeting tomorrow, if that's convenient."

Helen thought about her schedule. "I'd be willing to talk again tomorrow, but I'm not sure we can do much business. It's a weekend, and I suspect that this MACUSA takes the weekend off like everybody else."

Helen Morgendorffer's comment made Minerva pause. She'd not done kept track of the days of the week while she was here in Texas. Lily's great-aunt was probably right. The weekend was just about upon them, and they probably wouldn't be able to get more business done until Monday.

"Perhaps you could bring Harry by and he could visit," said Helen. "I'm sure that Daria would enjoy his company."

Minerva gave her a nod of approval and a smile. Helen had a good idea. She could almost imagine Lily cheering on her older relative from the hereafter.

The witches and Baby Harry left a short time later. Helen thought over the visit and and the things she'd learned. Magic was real (at least some of it), there really were witches and probably wizards. Her father had had another, older daughter, and that daughter had had daughters of her own. Young Harry was her great-grandnephew, at least assuming that all of this was true. Was it? Helen still wondered if this might be one bit giant scam effected for reasons unknown.

"Well, Jakey, what do you think?" said Helen.

"I think my mind's about as blown as yours is," said Jake. "I do like the baby. He seems to be a nice kid and I wouldn't mind taking him in."

"Helen, what worries me is that this is a little too much like a fairy tale," said Jake. "I'm not sure this is a happy ending. I think there's a hook somewhere that nobody's telling us about."

"I'm thinking the same thing," said Helen.

Helen hoped this was real. It would hurt if the old woman and her sidekick were using little Harry to play on their emotions to work some sort of scam. Helen hated con artists. One of her internships for a legal clinic a couple of summers ago was to help some older and poorer residents sue a fraudster who'd posed as an insurance agent. The fraudster had handed her clients paperwork, which they'd dutifully filled out, then arranged for them to make payments on their non-existent insurance policies. When the time came that these "clients" to make insurance claims, it was only then that they'd learned that they'd been duped, that they had no insurance policies, and that they wouldn't get paid.

Minerva McGonagall and Della Braden brought Harry by the next morning while Helen and Jake did chores. Minerva didn't stay long; at Della's suggestion, she left Della and Baby Harry with the Morgendorffers and went off to do some belated sight-seeing. Della was pleased to see that little Daria and Harry decided that they could deal with each other.

Della, Jake, and Helen were able to make some small talk and some not-so-small talk. Della came supplied with some addresses and telephone numbers for MACUSA officialdom. Helen learned that MACUSA had an office in downtown Austin, an office that by serendipity was located three blocks from where she worked.

Professor McGonagall came by with little Harry the following day, which was a Sunday.

The following morning, Helen told her boss that she had to take an extended lunch break to take care of some personal matters and set out to find the MACUSA offices. The building was a seven-story Art Deco-style building that must have been impressive back in the days when Austin was a growing college town whose main industries were the university and the state government, but looked small and dowdy compared to the newer high-rise buildings that had sprouted in the decades since then. Once upon a time it had been the headquarters for a local newspaper, and still had its publisher's statement of purpose inscribed in stone next to the entrance. The paper must have ceased publishing decades ago; Helen had never heard of it.

She wondered if such a dowdy old building could still be occupied or even unlocked. She walked up to the entrance and pressed her hand against it; the door was unlocked. She entered the lobby; it looked very much like an older office building that had lost renters as it aged and had fewer amenities to attract new renters as newer buildings. Still, there were little details did not quite add up, thought Helen. Why would this shabby old building still have a desk with a pair of security guards?

She walked up to the front desk and told the senior guard that she had an appointment to discuss an adoption. The security guard handed her a laminated card he said was a pass and pointed her over to the second door on the right, and everything changed when she cleared the doorway.

The interior was brightly-lit and as bustling as any bank lobby or busier lobbies of Austin's newer, taller high-rises. The contrast was that many people here were dressed in either floor-length dresses or exaggerated men's coats, vests, and trousers that looked like something copied from history books. There was what looked like a second receptionist's desk in front of her.

She looked at her blouse, jacket, and skirt. It was proper business attire at work, as well as respectable on the streets of downtown Austin, but she felt very much out-of-place here.

 _I doubt anybody is going to comment about my clothing while I'm here_ , she thought.

She was watching the fashion parade when a woman suddenly called to her. "Helen? Helen Morgendorffer? What are you doing here?"

It was Jillian, a woman that Helen recognized from her days at the commune. Jillian lived on one of the other Iowa communes, and Helen hadn't seen her since she and Jake had reluctantly pulled up stakes and left. Jillian was dressed in a dress that looked something like a cross between a long-skirted women's hippie dress and something from the Victorian era.

"I didn't know you were a witch," said Jillian. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I'm not," said Helen.

"You're not?" said Jillian. "But you're in here."

"I'm here on business," said Helen. "I'm adopting. I just learned that I've got a grand-nephew I know nothing about and the authorities want to place him with family, whether they're magical or not."

"Oh," said Jillian. She was disappointed. Was Helen one of those no-maj-born witches who couldn't find a place in the wizarding world, then rejoined the no-maj world? She hadn't thought that Helen was the type. A memory came up. She remembered that there'd been some sort of dust-up at the commune where Helen had been living. She'd forgotten the specifics of the quarrel, but Helen Morgendorffer had been the leader of one of her commune's factions. Helen clearly wasn't a shrinking violet.

"So like do you have any experience at being a Mom?" asked Jillian. "Is this going to be your first—"

"No, I already have a daughter," said Helen. "My daughter Daria is about the same age as the nephew I'd be taking in."

"No kidding!" said Jillian. "How old is she?"

"Daria is a year and eight months old," said Helen.

"I'm glad to know you're in town! Let's keep in touch!" said Jillian. "See you around!"

"Mrs. Morgendorffer?" said the receptionist.

"Yes," said Helen.

"Could you state your business here?" ask the receptionist.

"I'm here to see about where I should go to handle a legal adoption," said Helen. "I work nearby, I learned that this office building was close, and I'm using my lunch break to scout it out."

"Adoptions are overseen on the sixth floor," she said. "There's a waiting area on the fifth floor. Thank you for stopping by the MACUSA offices for Texas and the South Central Region and have a nice day," finishing with a saccharine smile.

Helen found the elevator with little help. To her bemusement, the MACUSA building's elevators had live operators. They weren't humans, at least as far as Helen could tell. They were short, light-skinned beings with big eyes and large pointed ears.

She rode the elevator up to the sixth floor, walked up to one of the secretaries sitting in front of several offices, and confirmed that what the downstairs receptionist said was accurate. She hoped to being moving the adoption process forward beginning right then and there, but learned that the official she had to talk to was out that day. She made an appointment for the next day and, having done so, she took another elevator back downstairs, left the building and went back to work.


	6. Chapter 6

Harry Potter Morgendorffer FF Part Six

 _Daria_ is the creation of Glenn Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. _Harry Potter_ is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling and Warner Brothers, as are its characters and situations. I don't own them, and neither expect nor deserve financial compensation for this story. I am writing for my own amusement and for ego gratification.

What if Minerva McGonagall had been able to persuade Professor McGonagall to place baby Harry Potter with different blood relatives instead of with Petunia Dursley and her husband: the Morgendorffers from MTV's _Daria_?

Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer

There was a different receptionist at the front desk when she came in the following day. The receptionist did not take it well when Helen stated her business. She looked suspiciously at Helen and said "We don't customarily place witch or wizard babies with non-magical families."

Helen's eyes narrowed as she looked back at the receptionist. _Who the H*** are you to tell me who I can adopt_ , she thought.

She continued to glare at the receptionist. "He's a blood relative," she said. "He's an orphan. His other relatives are either dead or totally unsuitable."

"I'm also an attorney," she added.

The receptionist then decided that discretion was the better part of valor. This wandless no-maj had not only entered the building on her own, but was also a lawyer. Maybe it was time to reduce her exposure.

"Adoptions are overseen on the sixth floor," she said. "There's a waiting area on the fifth floor. Thank you for stopping by the MACUSA offices for Texas and the South Central Region and have a nice day," finishing with a saccharine smile.

Helen found the elevator again without difficulty. She looked at the being operating the elevator car and said "Sixth floor, please."

The secretary on the sixth floor was friendlier than the woman downstairs. She recognized her from the day before and greeted her with a smile and a nod.

"You're here to see about the legal aspects of an adoption, aren't you?"

"Yes," said Helen.

"And your name, please?" said the secretary.

"Helen Barksdale Morgendorffer," said Helen.

The secretary looked at her schedule and saw Helen's name written there. "Ah, there you are, and right on time."

"Well, can I see Mrs. Powter, then?" asked Helen.

"I'm sorry, but Mrs. Powter's meeting seems to be running over, and she'll be delayed before she can see you. If you care wait here until she can see you, there's a waiting area on the seventh floor.

The seventh-floor waiting area was already occupied by a diminutive being about the height of a tall pre-schooler. This was no pre-schooler, though. He was a male, and clearly an adult, with an impressive mouthful of sharp teeth and long, sharp claws instead of fingernails. Helen's curiosity got the better of her and she stared at him for some time.

"It's rude to stare at people," said the little guy..

"My apologies," said Helen, "I never saw anybody like you before."

"Are you a no-maj?" asked the little guy.

"I'm not a witch, if that's what you mean," said Helen.

"You're a no-maj," said the little guy.

"And if I'm a no-maj," said Helen, "what are you?"

"I'm a goblin," he said.

"So what is your business here?" asked the goblin.

"I'm trying to adopt a war orphan from the British Isles," said Helen.

Bloodworth looked at the tall, auburn-haired human female. He'd come here to thread his way through MACUSA's local bureaucracy. He hated doing it himself; what he needed was a lawyer. Wizarding lawyers were far and few between. Few were the wizards who attended the illogical, often contradictory studies that constituted a magical education and then turned around and studied law. Those few who did were arrogant, often condescending, and charged vast fortunes for their fees and services. Worst of the worst were the ones from Louisiana. The Muggles there didn't use Common Law like the rest of the continental US and Canada, but law derived from the Napoleonic Codes. They knew they had a skill set that was not only scarce in the Muggle world, but even scarcer in the Magical World as well. The ideal hire was a no-maj lawyer, one who knew about the magical world, but hadn't been brought up in the magical world.

The no-maj woman sat down on her couch and opened her briefcase. She must have opened it the wrong way because it flipped over to the side and her papers slipped out. Bloodworth noted in passing that the papers seemed to be legal documents, but what caught his attention was her copy of the _Wall Street Journal_. It was Monday's, which had an article he'd been reading and badly wanted to finish.

Maybe this No Maj would lend him her copy. "Carpe diem!" he'd heard some humans say.

"Excuse me," he said. "Are you reading your _Wall_ _Street_ _Journal_?"

"No," said Helen. "It's Monday's and I'm probably not going to get around to it."

"I'd like to see it," said the goblin. "The paper boy messed up his delivery and I wasn't able to read through it."

Helen was about to ask him why he didn't go to a news stand or a public library and buy another copy when something made her stop. She looked at him again and thought for a moment. He was probably a magical creature. A guy his size probably would have trouble _not_ attracting attention, even in a city as laid-back as Austin, Texas.

The thought made her frown. This was something like Virginia in the bad old days of segregation.

She took her _Wall_ _Street_ _Journal_ out of her briefcase and handed it to him.

"Certainly," she said.

"Thank you," said the Goblin.

Helen forced herself to go back to work reading her briefs while the Goblin read the _Wall Street Journal_.

Helen was reviewing a brief on a civil suit concerning real estate holdings when a limited partnership had gone belly-up when she was interrupted by a woman saying "Mrs. Morgendorffer?"

"Yes?" said Helen, putting down her brief.

"My name is Tabitha Powter, I'm a case worker with the MACUSA's Bureau of Health and Child Welfare."

"Let's go back to my office," said Tabitha.

Helen followed Mrs. Powter to her office. Mrs. Powter closed the door behind her. "Take a seat and let's get to business," she said.

"This may sound extraordinary, but I was approached by a woman named Minerva McGonagall and a Della Braden about adopting a boy named Harry Potter," said Helen.

"The boy you are trying to adopt is Harry Potter?" Mrs. Powter incredulously. "THE Harry Potter?"

"Ms. McGonagall and Ms. Braden tell me that Harry Potter is my great-nephew."

"That is an—extraordinary—claim," said Mrs. Powter.

"I think so, too," said Helen, "I want to believe it but I want more proof."

"Ms. McGonagall and Ms. Braden claim that Harry Potter is my great nephew through an older sister my father engendered when he was working for the US State Department back in 1939. I have become convinced that their story is not only plausible but likely true," said Helen.

Mrs. Powter's face took on a look of concern. Mrs. Morgendorffer seemed to be an intelligent woman. But sometimes even the sharpest minds can be cheated by scammers.

"Can you give me more information about this boy?" asked Helen.

"Harry Potter is a national hero back in the UK," said Mrs. Powter. "He's not only the only boy to survive a killing curse, but in doing so, he defeated one of the most evil wizards of this century."

"And what was this wizard's name?" asked Helen.

Helen watched Mrs. Powter become uncomfortable.

"Lord Volde-," she started. She paused and became even more uncomfortable.

"Lord Voldem…" She paused again and became even more uncomfortable. It was clear that Mrs. Powter did not want to say the evil wizard's name.

 _And the son-of-a-gun is_ dead, thought Helen. He must have been a terror while he was still alive.

"Does his name end with "mort"?" said Helen.

Mrs. Powter gave a quick, nervous nod.

"Thank you for the confirmation," said Helen. "I won't ask you to speak it again." _So that part is real_ , she told herself. She'd gained some corroboration for McGonagall's story. She hoped the rest of it was true.

She wondered about how she'd go about establishing kinship. She'd like to be certain that Baby Harry was indeed her nephew. Blood work was only so reliable. Medicine was making rapid progress with DNA tests, but they were expensive and time-consuming.

"I'd like to resolve the paternity issue," said Helen.

"We can quickly resolve this with a blood test," said Mrs. Powter.

"How do we go about doing that?" asked Helen. "Do we go to a clinic or a medical lab or can we take care of it here?"

"Actually we go to a bank," said Mrs. Powter.

"A bank?" Helen said incredulously.

"A bank," said Mrs. Powter. "Much of the international wizarding community's financial sector is run by goblins. They own the principal wizarding banks here in Texas."

"As surprising as it may sound, they administer blood tests to establish ownership and legal claims, such as paternity and to verify identities."

"Could we do it now?" said Helen.

"Normally I'd say that we wait, but yes, let's see if we could do it now," said Mrs. Powter.


	7. Chapter 7

Harry Potter Morgendorffer Part Seven

 _Daria_ is the creation of Glenn Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. _Harry Potter_ is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling and Warner Brothers, as are its characters and situations. I don't own them, and neither expect nor deserve financial compensation for this story. I am writing for my own amusement and for ego gratification.

What if Minerva McGonagall had been able to persuade Professor McGonagall to place baby Harry Potter with different blood relatives instead of with Petunia Dursley and her husband: the Morgendorffers from MTV's _Daria_?

Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer

Helen realized that she'd probably have other blood tests with Baby Harry and Professor McGonagall present, but decided that she wanted her own evidence, evidence that she'd gathered and collated herself, and not have to rely on the word of Minerva McGonagall or Della Braden.

A short time later, she found herself entering a block of buildings on Congress that must have gone up some time in the previous century or right before the First World War. Helen had often seen those buildings and wondered why they were still standing there. They didn't belong to the city or state, they didn't seem to be museums, and she didn't remember seeing any of them ever open. Nevertheless, she and Mrs. Powter entered the door of a four story Victorian building in the middle of the block and went inside.

Again, there was a receptionist's desk and a door, behind which there was another receptionist's desk and another door. The second desk had a pair of goblins behind it. She stepped through the second door and found herself in a bank lobby; very old fashioned compared to the newer human-run bank lobbies up and down Congress Street, but definitely a bank lobby. The cashiers and bankers were also goblins. One goblin was an anomaly. Lots of goblins was—disorienting.

Mrs. Powter quickly managed to find a goblin to perform a paternity test and they were ushered into a small office. Helen wondered how they could fit in what seemed to be such huge interior space into what were small exteriors.

"This will require a little bit of blood," said Speedicutt, picking up a dagger.

"Is that dagger clean?" asked Helen. "I do worry about HIV."

"Understandable," said Speedicutt. "We do clean these blades after use, and then let them sit in sunlight for a time. It kills the HIV retrovirus. Could you extend your right hand, please?"

"Let's do this," said Helen, trying to make a game face. She extended her right hand and let the goblin take it in his as he picked up the blade on his desk.

She swallowed and let the goblin make a small, thin cut on her index finger. That blade was sharp; she scarcely felt any pain.

The goblin murmured something she didn't catch, then slipped a blank parchment under her hand.

"Now let a few blood droplets fall on the page," he said. A few drops of Helen's blood fell onto the parchment and names and lines began to form.

Helen stared at the parchment, fascinated. Curious, she first looked at the top of the document, not at the bottom, which was just about where she should be. Aside from one family thread marked Barksdale and another for her mother's family, there were not only half-familiar names but others that she didn't. _Who were the Rosiers_ , she wondered. _And what was so special about the Flint family?_ The lower part of the parchment not only listed her immediate family, but also cousins, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and other grandparents, as well as annotations as to whether they were witches, wizards, squibs, or No-Majs. She could probably spend hours looking at it.

 _Focus, Helen_ , she told herself. It was time to put Professor McGonagall's claim about Baby Harry to the test. She found her father's name and his descendants. _Four_ , not three daughters like she'd previously assumed. And just like Ms. McGonagall had said, her oldest sister had a daughter. That daughter had two daughters, and both of them had borne sons. The younger daughter, Lily, had had a son with a James Potter and his name was Harry.

She handed the parchment to Mrs. Powter. Mrs. Powter studied the document carefully, her eyebrows raising as she her eyes reached the bottom of the document.

"Mrs. Morgendorffer, I apologize for not believing it, but you are indeed related to THE Harry Potter," she said.

"I don't know about granting custody for Harry, but you have a very strong claim based on ties of blood," she continued.

Mrs. Powter resumed studying the document. Helen could tell that she was now studying the top of the page, which Helen had only cursorily examined. "Mrs. Morgendorffer, you may not believe this, but your mother's family is descended from one of North America's more distinguished magical families," she said.

"Really?" said Helen.

"You're descended from the Heaths," said Mrs. Powter. "The Heaths were one of the oldest Anglo-American wizarding families in North America. The first Heaths arrived in New England in 1640 and continued to play a prominent role in North America's magical community until the male lines finally died out in the 1870's. Many of North America's remaining old magical families boast of Heath ancestry."

"Does this help or hurt my case?" asked Helen.

"I think it would help," said Mrs. Powter.

Helen thanked the goblin and gave him a couple of business cards. The goblin read one and then lit up in a predatory smile, saying "We'll be getting in touch with you, Mrs. Morgendorffer."

After leaving the bank, Helen called the hotel where Ms. McGonagall and Ms. Braden were staying and asked them to mind Baby Harry that evening. When she got home that afternoon, Helen brought take-out for herself, Jake, and Daria. She and Jake needed time and space to talk.

"I've been running around all over downtown Austin doing research, Jakey," she said.

"That's great, Helen!" said Jake.

"I don't know for sure, but it looks like we could adopt little Harry. I had blood tests done and I discovered that I do have a great-nephew named Harry Potter. if this really IS my grand-nephew, we can adopt him.."

"Great!" said Jake. "We could have a boy as well as a girl around the place!"

"What do you think, kiddo?" he said to Daria.

Daria looked back at him with considerably less enthusiasm.

"Maybe," she said.

"Do you want to keep going, Jakey?" said Helen.

"Yes," said Jake.


	8. Chapter 8

Harry Potter Morgendorffer FF Part Eight

 _Daria_ is the creation of Glenn Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. _Harry Potter_ is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling and Warner Brothers, as are its characters and situations. I don't own them, and neither expect nor deserve financial compensation for this story. I am writing for my own amusement and for ego gratification.

What if Minerva McGonagall had been able to persuade Professor McGonagall to place baby Harry Potter with different blood relatives instead of with Petunia Dursley and her husband: the Morgendorffers from MTV's _Daria_?

Warning: Rated "T" for language

Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer

Helen returned to the MACUSA offices the following day. This time Jake joined her, as did Professor McGonagall, Della Braden, and Baby Harry. Little Daria was with a sitter.

Hearing that THE Harry Potter was an adoption case at the MACUSA offices in Austin, Texas, Mrs. Powter's boss Octavio Sanchez decided to sit in on the proceedings. "Normally, because you're a No-Maj, we'd deny you custody of your great-nephew, but you're not just any No-Maj," he said. "You're not only blood kin to Britain's Boy Who Lived, Professor McGonagall has a letter from Albus Dumbledore endorsing your adoption, and you're also descended from one of North America's more distinguished magical families."

"We can get this adoption ready to go, but we need one more signature," said Mr. Sanchez.

"Whose?" asked Helen.

"Lily Evans Potter's sister," said Mr. Sanchez. "A sister is considered closer kin than an aunt."

"I see," said Helen.

"Who is this sister, by the way?" asked Mr. Sanchez.

"Her name is Petunia Evans Dursley," said Professor McGonagall. "She lives in Britain."

"Well, we'll have to see about getting her to sign it," said Mr. Sanchez. "Either we can send the document over there for her signature and sign it, or she can come over here and we can quickly process it."

"I'll have to talk to Professor Dumbledore," said Professor McGonagall. "He can tell me what is the best approach."

"Jake and I insist on one condition before we adopt," said Helen.

"He can be Harry Potter in Britain, but here in the United States his legal name will be Harry James Morgendorffer, and he'll be HJ Morgendorffer as long as he's living under our roof."

"What?" said Professor MCGonagall, startled. This was an unexpected development.

"I want him to have a little privacy while he's growing up," said Helen. "I don't want him to be harassed by celebrity hunters or this old Lord Moldy-shorts' former followers looking to settle old scores."

The American magicals' lips twisted to avoid making smirks.

Helen saw Professor McGonagall draw in her breath to make an objection. "This is non-negotiable," she stated.

Jake, who'd said very little, nodded in agreement.

"But his name..." began Professor McGonagall.

"Would it interfere with his development?" said Helen, looking at Mr. Sanchez and Mrs. Powter.

"No," said Mr. Sanchez. "You might want to tell him that he's adopted and that his original surname was Potter, but it shouldn't be a magical problem."

"We can do that," said Helen. Jake nodded in agreement.

"I'll send word to Professor Dumbledore, and we can see about moving the adoption process forward," said Professor McGonagall.

"We're on the cusp of resolving custody with MACUSA, but what about the State Government?" asked Helen.

"That shouldn't be a problem," said Mr. Sanchez. "We've got connections with the proper authorities in the state government and the federal government. Once we get Mrs. Dursley's signature, the adoption should sail right through.

Years later, Harry Potter wondered how Professor McGonagall got in touch with Professor Dumbledore. Magical mirrors, Patronuses? Owls were out of the question. He decided that telephones were more likely. He tried to imagine Professor Dumbledore using a telephone and despite the fact that Professor Dumbledore almost certainly used a charm to conceal his true appearance when he went out to the Muggle world to use one, amused himself by imagining Professor Dumbledore holding the handset and receiver and dressed as a proper wizard while he talked to Professor McGonagall.

Little Whinging, Surrey, UK Two Nights Later

Petunia Dursley learned about her sister's sudden death from the local authorities in Little Whinging. Her death, and that of her husband James Harry Potter, was attributed to unknown causes. Muggle though she was, Petunia recognized that her sister and her husband had been murdered by Lord Voldemort. The authorities pressed her for any information she could provide about her nephew, who was missing. Petunia could provide none; she had no photographs of her sister after she'd married her husband James and had moved away and none of her baby nephew. Despite the fact that she'd been nowhere near Godric's Hollow when her sister and her brother-in-law had been murdered, she resented the looks that police interviewers had given her and the suspicion that she might have had something to do with her sister's killing.

The doorbell rang. She wondered who it could be at this hour. She opened her front door and was shocked to see that it was Albus Dumbledore.

"Good evening. May I come in?" he said politely, just as if he came to call on a great lady.

"What do you want?" she said bitterly. The old wizard had taken her little sister away from her family and placed them with freaks and then gotten her killed. She wanted nothing better than to curse him out and slam the door in his face, but she knew that would be futile. He was going to come in, and there was nothing she could do about it.

"I know you don't want to see me," said Albus Dumbledore, "but we do have legal matters to discuss."

"What legal matters?" said Petunia.

"As you well know, your sister Lily had a child, a baby named Harry, and that by Muggle law you are legally his next of kin. I must ask you if you and your husband are willing to take him in."

"My sister was a freak, and married to a freak," Petunia said bitterly. "And it got her killed."

"No," she said.

"We don't want it!" said Vernon. "We will not stand for any freakiness in this house!"

"We have found another couple who is willing to take custody of the baby," said Dumbledore. "Are you willing to waive custodial rights and allow the other couple to adopt him?"

Petunia and Vernon were silent for a moment, thinking it over.

"That would mean that the brat never comes here, wouldn't it?" said Vernon.

"Yes," said Professor Dumbledore.

"Good, they can have the freak," said Vernon.

"If those are your wishes, we will respect them" said Professor Dumbledore, speaking as if he'd never heard the rudeness and venom from either Dursley. "However, there are legal documents that need signing so that the adoption can proceed."

"Who are they?" asked Petunia, "more of your sort?"

"She's your great-aunt Helen Barksdale Morgendorffer and her husband Jacob Morgendorffer," said Professor Dumbledore.

"I have no great-aunts of that name," said Petunia.

"On the contrary," said Professor Dumbledore. "You have Helen and her two sisters on your mother's side of the family. They live in America."

"What?" said Petunia.

"Your mother's real father was an American named Allen Barksdale. Your mother was not his only child; he had three other daughters. I propose to place Lily's boy with Helen."

"How?" said Petunia, outrage temporarily overcome by curiosity.

"Your mother was born in 1940, was she not?" said Professor Dumbledore.

"Yes," said Petunia.

"Your grandmother had a brief affair with your real grandfather in 1939," said Professor Dumbledore. "He returned to America, she never told him she was with child.

Petunia thought about it. It was possible. She knew that her grandmother was in London during the early part of the war, and then returned to Cokeworth before the Blitz. Her mother married early; she was only in her mid-teens when she married her father. Her grandmother never talked about her first husband, and she and her mother and her grand da acted as if he'd been one of the countless thousands of men who'd lost their lives fighting the Nazis.

She could almost see her grandparents doing it. By doing so, they'd lessen the taint of bastardy. If some meddler counted the months between her mother's birth and her grandmother's marriage she'd still be protected from disgrace by the story of a missing suitor, killed in the war before he could do the right thing and marry her.

And now her mother's disgrace was visited on _her_ head, because her mother's real father wasn't a war hero but a philandering American who'd gone back across the water, married someone else, and then gave birth to three other daughters. _Nasty little shit,_ she thought resentfully.

She was tempted to refuse, but suspected that the wily old wizard was holding the high cards. She was also all too aware of what witches and wizards could do to people's minds and their memories with a little malice and wand-work.

"If you've got the documents, I'll sign them right here and now," said Vernon.

"They need to be signed by the closest living female blood relative," said Professor Dumbledore. "That would be Mrs. Dursley."

"And if we sign, we don't have to take him in?" said Petunia.

"If we complete the legal work, you won't have to," said Professor Dumbledore. "Mr. and Mrs. Morgendorffer will take custody."

"So how did you come about this rubbish?" asked Petunia.

"Professor McGonagall had the story from Lily and your grandmother," said Professor Dumbledore. "Once Mrs. Morgendorffer decided that her kinship with Baby Harry was plausible, she set about finding other means to prove that ties of blood actually existed."

More secrets kept from her. _Her mother and Lily must have been in on it with the old witch,_ Petunia thought with a fresh wave of resentment.

"How?" said Petunia.

"Blood tests," said Professor Dumbledore. "The Goblins have very reliable blood tests that can readily establish paternity. They've been used in the magical world for centuries. Mrs. Morgendorffer has already had those tests performed on herself and Harry. They are indeed great-aunt and nephew."

The thought that she had three other great-aunts did not sit well with Petunia. She decided that she did not want to deal with that now. She'd talk it over later with Vernon.

"Shall we continue this conversation in the back yard?" said Professor Dumbledore.

"But the neighbors," Petunia protested, but she followed him outside just the same.

Professor Dumbledore pulled his putter-outer from a hidden pocket and put out the two porch lights.

"How soon can I sign?" said Petunia. "I want this over and done with."

"T'were done, t'were best done quickly," said Professor Dumbledore, placing his putter-outer back in his pocket.

"How quickly?" said Petunia.

"Now," said Professor Dumbledore. He pulled Petunia close, raised his wand-arm, and he and Petunia apparated away.


	9. Chapter 9

Harry Potter Morgendorffer Part Nine

 _Daria_ is the creation of Glenn Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. _Harry Potter_ is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling and Warner Brothers, as are its characters and situations. I don't own them, and neither expect nor deserve financial compensation for this story. I am writing for my own amusement and for ego gratification.

What if Minerva McGonagall had been able to persuade Professor McGonagall to place baby Harry Potter with different blood relatives instead of with Petunia Dursley and her husband: the Morgendorffers from MTV's _Daria_?

Rated "T" for language.

Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer

An instant later, Helen watched in amazement as an old man dressed in what was clearly a wizard's costume and a blond-haired woman appeared in the Morgendorffers' back yard. It must have been a rough ride. The woman bent over and threw up on the Morgendorffers' scraggly lawn.

It was still light outside. Once the woman stood up, Helen could see that she had a horsey face and a long neck. Helen wondered how in the hell this Dursley woman could be related to the Barksdales.

Helen thought that this niece would be auburn-haired like she was, but for some reason the Petunia's hair was blonde. She frowned; she could see that the woman's hair was dyed.

"How do you do? I'm Helen Morgendorffer," said Helen. The woman rising from her lawn was definitely off-balance. There was a time when Helen-the-Hippie might have given a open-handed, sympathetic reception right then and there; Lawyer Helen, on the other, was the sort of woman who'd readily take advantage of this newcomer's disorientation. She'd play hard ball, she decided. "I'm your great-aunt."

Petunia Dursley got up from the grass and looked at the woman who was talking to her. She was surprised at the American woman's appearance. If she didn't look like Lily, she definitely looked like some sort of cousin. Her face was rounder, she was a bit more broad-shouldered, her eyes were brown instead of green, but she had the same pale skin and auburn hair that Lily did. Petunia shot Professor Dumbledore an evil look, then looked at this Texas woman.

"Petunia Dursley," she said shortly. "I gather, then, that we're in Texas." she said.

"We are," said Helen. "This is Austin, the state capital."

Petunia didn't know what to think. She'd expected cowboys, tumbleweeds, long-horned cows, men strolling around wearing Stetson hats, not a block of houses that looked more like a suburban version of Cokeworth than a proper new town like Little Whinging.

Mrs. Morgendorffer (Petunia couldn't bring herself to call this woman her aunt) invited her into her house to clean up and to discuss legal matters. Even before she entered the hall bathroom, Petunia decided that Helen Morgendorffer and her husband were slovenly housekeepers. Their house was filthy by her standards and badly needed a thorough scrubbing from floor to ceiling.

The house felt crowded. Not only were Professor Dumbledore and Helen Morgendorffer present, but also Professor McGonagall, one Della Braden, who Petunia had never met, a dark haired baby boy who Petunia was certain was James Potter's brat Harry, and an auburn-haired baby girl Mr. Morgendorffer introduced as his daughter Daria. In addition, there was also a Mrs. Powter from the American magical government and a Mr. Sanchez, also from the American magical government.

Despite the presence of so many strangers, Mrs. Morgendorffer attempted to make introductions and small talk. In the process, Petunia discovered that this Jacob Morgendorffer was a nutter and worse, a Jew.

Petunia had some questions of her own. She was relieved to learn that both Morgendorffers were gainfully employed, although she wondered what sort of use a woman would be in a law office. They might be downwardly-mobile, but they wouldn't be leeches like James Potter.

She was curious about her new purported grandfather. "Is this Allen Barksdale still living?" asked Petunia.

"Father died a bit over six years ago," said Helen. "A stroke."

"Minerva told me about Uncle Jasper," she said. "I'm sorry I never met him. He sounded like a good man."

Petunia couldn't imagine how an upstart Yankee bitch could find kind things to say about a man she'd never met. "He was," she said shortly.

"Do you want coffee or something to drink?" said Helen. "I do have coffee, water, juice, and soda. We also have beer in the fridge."

Most of the Americans demurred; they were either driving or apparating away afterwards.

Petunia did choose water, which Helen brought in from the kitchen. Petunia examined the glass sourly; there were soap rings. She drank from it anyway.

"I suggest we all start reading the paperwork before we get down to business," said Helen.

"Professor Dumbledore, I presume you've brought paperwork?"

"I do," said Professor Dumbledore.

Professor Dumbledore pulled out signed and witnessed documents that expressed Lily and James Potters' wishes concerning custody if they should predecease Baby Harry. One of the first things Helen noted was that the Potters were adamant that neither Petunia nor Vernon Dursley should be granted custody of the baby.

Helen glanced at her niece and wondered how that tidbit had gone down. Judging from Petunia's face it didn't seem to settle her temper any.

Petunia found other things in the document to annoy her. "There's a stipend?" Petunia asked greedily, frowning at Dumbledore. "Why the Devil didn't you tell me?"

"I assumed that you knew," Professor Dumbledore said blandly. "Lily was your sister, after all, and I'd assumed that like most sisters, you'd remained close."

Petunia shot Professor Dumbledore a poisonous look that made Helen raise her eyebrows. After that exchanged, she was now convinced that the sisters had been at loggerheads, at least since Lily's marriage to James Potter, and probably before them.

"You damn wizards and your freakish ways!" she began.

Helen gave Petunia Dursley a stern look. "Would you please calm down?" she said.

"Why should I!" said Petunia. "You're all freaks! You," she said, pointing at Dumbledore, "You!" she said, pointing at McGonagall, "my sister, her husband!" she continued. "You," pointing at Braden and the two MACUSA officials. "And you," she said, turning on Helen and Jake, "You're both nutters and dealing with freaks!"

Helen was first surprised and then appalled at Petunia's outburst. They weren't the only ones who were upset; Baby Harry started to cry, which set Della and Helen racing to pick up Baby Harry while Jake ran over to check on Baby Daria. Helen and Jake caught each other's eye and realized that they'd both made the same decision: there was no way they were going to let that Dursley woman gain custody of little Harry. They'd follow the adoption process through to the end.

Petunia stalked angrily out the front door and slammed it behind her. Helen was seething, but told herself that she was a professional and she wouldn't speak again until she'd regained control of her temper. Professor Dumbledore walked to the door, opened it, and saw Petunia reach the edge of the Morgendorffers' driveway and turn right onto the street.

"Let her go," said Mr. Sanchez. "She needs to blow off steam. Also, she's going to wise up and realize that she really is in Texas."

Mr. Sanchez looked at Professor Dumbledore. "The woman didn't change money or bring her passport when you brought her over from England, did she?"

"No," said Professor Dumbledore. "We came over directly from her house in Surrey."

"Oh, my," said Mr. Sanchez.


	10. Chapter 10

Harry Potter Morgendorffer Part Ten

 _Daria_ is the creation of Glenn Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. _Harry Potter_ is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling and Warner Brothers, as are its characters and situations. I don't own them, and neither expect nor deserve financial compensation for this story. I am writing for my own amusement and for ego gratification.

What if Minerva McGonagall had been able to persuade Professor McGonagall to place baby Harry Potter with different blood relatives instead of with Petunia Dursley and her husband: the Morgendorffers from MTV's _Daria_?

Rated "T" for language.

Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer

There was little to do until Petunia Dursley returned. Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall did regale them with stories about Lily and James Potter from their school days. Helen looked surreptitiously at Harry and hoped that the boy wouldn't take after his father. Jake had a moment of envy, thinking how James handled his boarding school days better than he handled Buxton Ridge Military academy. Still, there came a point when both Mr. Sanchez and Mrs. Powter pointedly looked at their watches.

"I wonder where the Dursley woman went off to?" asked Helen. She had a hard time thinking of Petunia Dursley as being any sort of blood kin of hers.

"I don't know," Mr. Sanchez replied. "But unless we find her, I think this is all we can do this evening."

Helen frowned. To say the least, her grand-niece had not made a good impression on her. She was rude, bigoted, and offensive. On the other hand, she was every bit as much a blood relative as Baby Harry. The thought of being related to the younger woman grated on her. She thought of some cousins she'd met when she was growing up in Virginia. _Distant cousins_ , one of the cousins she'd liked had said of them, _the more distant they were, the better she liked it_.

Petunia was probably lost, since she hadn't come back yet. _Serves her right_ , she thought. If she wasn't family, howbeit newly-discovered family, Helen would have been happy to let her walk the strange streets of Hyde Park and Austin alone.

"We'll have to go find her," she said. Everyone except the babies knew just who she meant.

"Allow me," said Professor Dumbledore. "I've got a locating spell."

-(((O-O)))-

Long before the American officials were thinking of calling it an evening, Petunia Dursley was coming to believe that she'd let her emotions get the better of her. She'd stormed out of the small one-story wooden house in a fury, only gradually calming down. Now she realized that she was lost in a strange neighborhood in a strange city where she didn't know anyone and she didn't have any money. She put her hands in the pockets of her skirt and was relieved to note that she was wrong about the latter. She had five pounds.

She started walking up and down the streets trying to see if she recognized any familiar landmarks. She didn't. Since the streets were laid out on some sort of grid pattern, she'd thought she'd soon regain her bearings but night was falling and she realized that she found the one street that came in at an odd angle. She followed It, thinking that it might take her back to the Morgendorffers' home but first found herself crossing a railway line and then a busy street improbably called Airport Boulevard. She knew that she hadn't crossed Airport Boulevard or any railway lines earlier, so she decided to turn around to trace her steps.

Her plan to cross the train tracks was stopped short by the sight of a flashing crossing signal and lowering crossing gates and the sounds of warning bells, air horns, and the loud rumble of an approaching train. She thought of ducking under the gates and risk a crossing, but the train was approaching too fast and she was not wearing flats. She watched as the engine and the string of goods wagons rumbled past and then faded away into the night.

She'd noticed a convenience store on the angled street and decided to try her luck there. Maybe she could make a telephone call or buy bottled water there. It could be a long night without it.

She walked to the convenience store and walked inside, noting the police car parked out front. She noticed a refrigerated section where various brands of bottled water were for sale and pulled out a bottle. She walked up to the front of the store and queued up behind a girl with purple and black dyed hair who wanted a pack of cigarettes. The man behind the counter, an Indian, Petunia noted with disapproval, rang up the girl and she walked off into the night.

Petunia placed the bottle of water and her five pound note on the counter.

"No," said the man behind the counter, whose name was Ramesh.

"No?" said Petunia.

"I cannot accept this," said the clerk. "I will not sell you the water."

"I want a bottle of water," said Petunia. "I've got money to pay for it. Why won't you sell it to me?"

"This is Austin, Texas, ma'am," said Ramesh from the other side of the counter. "British pounds are no good here. If you have any American money I will happily sell you something but your money is no good here."

Petunia glared at the store clerk. She didn't like being in a position of weakness and people who didn't know their place. She wanted to tell him off right then and there, but had noticed that there was a local copper in the back, a black-haired, dark-skinned copper with a name badge that read Vasquez. He looked like an Indian from a Hollywood film. Was he a Mexican or something? Whatever the case, he had a badge, a gun, and handcuffs, as well as a patch that said Austin Police Department.

The last thing Petunia Dursley wanted to do was to spend the night in a foreign jail. She didn't want to stay thirsty, either, but being thirsty was preferable to being arrested.

"Excuse me, ma'am," said a voice behind her.

She turned around and a grizzled older man with a white beard wearing an American-style ball cap, a tee shirt captioned WINNERS!, shorts, and sandals. He smelled of sweat, old beer, and cigarette smoke, much like that awful boy's father had back in Cokeworth. "I'll buy your water," he said.

He edged around her to place his six pack of beer next to the cash register. Petunia's nostrils twitched: the man needed a bath. "Ring this lady's bottle along with my stuff," he said.

Petunia didn't want to say thank you. She didn't want anything to do with him. She especially didn't want to go anywhere with him. But he had done her a good turn for his own, inexplicable reasons.

"Thank you," she said.

The drunkard gave her a smile and a nod, then lurched out the front door. Petunia waited until she saw what direction he went, not wanting to follow him, even by accident. She walked out the store's front door and looked around her. In despair she realized that she didn't recognize any landmarks that would take her back to where she'd first arrived in Austin. She didn't know where these Morgendorffers lived and it looked to be a long night.

An older-model Japanese-made sedan with Texas license plates pulled into one of the vacant spaces to the left of the patrol car, then stopped. Petunia turned to look at it and saw Minerva McGonagall seated in what was the driver's side-no, the Americans drove on the right like the French—glaring at her. McGonagall lowered her window and said "Get in, you goose."

Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer

Author's note: This is not how I really wanted to write this scene. In the original version, Petunia would have annoyed Officer Sanchez enough that she would have been detained until back-up arrived. Then, as two more patrol cars and a film crew from the television series cops was rolling footage, Petunia would have been filmed while being arrested and put in the back of Officer Sanchez's police car. Petunia Dursley would then spend the night in the Travis County Jail in downtown Austin.

Alas, while I think I could have written the arrest scene well enough, I lacked the knowledge to write a detailed description of what would have happened as Petunia was taken downtown, booked, finger-printed, photographed, and then put into a jail cell with a couple of drunks and a street-walker.

I decided that I'd stick to my level of writing skills and make it easier for the Morgendorffers to locate their missing relative and get the papers signed, so I regretfully opted for Helen Morgendorffer and Minerva McGonagall tracking her down. Nevertheless, I still think this Petunia Dursley got off too easily.


	11. Chapter 11

Harry Potter Morgendorffer Part Eleven

 _Daria_ is the creation of Glenn Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. _Harry Potter_ is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling and Warner Brothers, as are its characters and situations. I don't own them, and neither expect nor deserve financial compensation for this story. I am writing for my own amusement and for ego gratification.

What if Minerva McGonagall had been able to persuade Professor McGonagall to place baby Harry Potter with different blood relatives instead of with Petunia Dursley and her husband: the Morgendorffers from MTV's _Daria_?

Rated "T" for language.

Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer

An older-model Japanese-made sedan with Texas license plates pulled into one of the vacant spaces to the left of the patrol car, then stopped. Petunia turned to look at it and saw Minerva McGonagall seated in what was the driver's side-no, the Americans drove on the right like the French—glaring at her. McGonagall lowered her window and said "Get in, you goose."

Petunia got into the car. Mrs. Morgendorffer was driving. It was a short drive back to the Morgendorffer's house. To Petunia's consternation, the Morgendorffers' house was a short six blocks and two streets over from the convenience store. She might have remembered the way back if she'd been more careful. She stepped out of the car and saw a squirrel perched on a tree branch in the neighbors' yard. The squirrel looked at her and chattered reproachfully.

Professor Dumbledore, Mr. Morgendorffer, the American officials, and Professor McGonagall's companion were waiting for her when she entered the sitting room to the right of the Morgendorffers' front door.

"Let's get this over with," said Petunia. "I'll sign the bloody paperwork." As she expected, it wasn't paper at all, but parchment. And the damn wizards expected her to sign with a quill. Petunia hated Quill pens. She'd never done well with them and spotted a felt tip pen on a small chest next to the table. She picked it up, uncapped the top, and wrote Petunia Evans Dursley with a flourish. There, done.

"How soon can I get back to England?" she said.

"Not for twenty four hours," said Professor Dumbledore. "I may be one of the select few wizards who can apparate across the ocean, but performing such magic takes a good deal out of me. I must rest before I try it again. I should be ready to travel tomorrow evening."

"What about you?" said Petunia to Professor McGonagall.

"Madam Braden and I flew to New York on a commercial airliner, then took the floo," said Professor McGonagall. "We'll be returning to Britain the same way, then I'll floo back to Hogwarts. No telling what sort of trouble my Lions have been getting into in my absence. We wouldn't be leaving until tomorrow evening in any case."

Petunia realized in despair that she'd have to spend at least one night here in Texas whether she liked it or not. "I need to stay _somewhere_ ," she said. "I don't have any money. I didn't bring my purse with me. She looked reproachfully at Professor Dumbledore. This was all his fault; if he'd given any warning at the very least she'd have her bank cards and, with more preparation, her passport.

"You can spend the night with us," said Professor McGonagall.

By the look on Petunia's face, Professor McGonagall saw that Lily's older sister thought of it as a hideous prospect.

"Or you can spend the night over here," Helen said grudgingly, the codes of Southern hospitality and that of her former commune rising from dormancy. She didn't really want to put Petunia up overnight, but she was not only her niece, but also a blood relation. "We don't have a guest bedroom, but the couch does convert into a futon. I can get you sheets, pillows, towels, and a blanket, and we can make up the bed."

 _Caught between the devil and the deep blue sea_ , Petunia thought glumly. _The witches or the nutters_. She decided to take her newly-discovered great-aunt up on her offer.

The magical folk left for homes or hotels shortly thereafter by automobile or by apparation, leaving the Morgendorffers and Petunia Dursley behind. Everyone left at the Morgendorffers was exhausted, and they all went to sleep afterwards.

Mr. Sanchez drove away in his pickup, but not before casting yet another admiring glance at the neighbors' vintage Silverado pickup truck. "What do you think about Helen Morgendorffer putting the Dursley woman up overnight?" said Tabitha, who'd decided to ride with him a way so they could talk.

"I'm reminded of a No-Maj saying I heard while I was in college getting a degree in administration," said Mr. Ortiz.

"What saying?" asked Tabitha.

"Home is where you have to go, and they have to take you in," he replied.

Petunia slept longer but not as well as she would have on Privet Drive. The Morgendorffer girl baby didn't seem to be as demanding as her own precious Dudders, but she started crying in the early hours, and Helen got up from her bed to change her diaper. Some rowdies made noises a short time later and woke her up again. Some particularly evil-minded hoodlum waited until she was finally drifting off to sleep, then knocked over the garbage cans and started rummaging around in the contents.

The Morgendorffers arose around six the next morning. Helen crossed the living room to start some device in the kitchen and Petunia soon smelled and overheard the process of brewing coffee.

The sounds and smells of coffee caused Petunia to get out of bed. She spotted a bathrobe draped over a living room chair; she wore it when she went to the bathroom.

Helen Morgendorffer's kitchen made Petunia think of her mother Rose's back in Cokeworth, even though the Morgendorffers' kitchen was nothing like her mother's. Inspired by unexpected nostalgia, Petunia started to open drawers and doors to find cooking supplies. There were pots and pans, but it looked like the Morgendorffers rarely cooked meals.

Petunia opened the refrigerator. There were eggs, sausage, and grapefruit., as well as jars of baby food that must be for Baby Daria. She wondered where the Morgendorffers hid their bread, then discovered that they hid a load of store bread in a drawer below their silverware.

Jake was the first Morgendorffer to arrive in the kitchen. "I'll cook breakfast," she told him. It wasn't really altruism; she wanted to lessen her chances of food poisoning with these people.

Helen was the next. She was already dressed in an American-style businesswoman's suit. Petunia wondered if that was a typical American woman lawyer's attire and if she planned to wear it at the custody proceeding. Helen brought little Daria with her and seated the girl in the high chair.

Her great-aunt did not make much small talk. Instead, she excused herself and started making telephone calls. The woman's husband did ask her where she lived and what she did for a living. She told him that she lived in Surrey and that she was happy to be a housewife, thank you very much. Some people might have stopped there, but Mister Morgendorffer continued the conversation. _Salesman_ , she thought. She learned that his parents Nathan and Ruth lived in a town called Coaldale in the American state of Pennsylvania. She also learned that his father had been in the Korean War and that his nickname was Mad Dog Morgendorffer. In return Petunia had to give up that her husband was named Vernon, her son was named Dudley, and that her husband worked for a company that made drills.

Helen's baby was unsettling. She was an extraordinarily quiet little girl, even if both Helen and Jake insisted that she could talk. She stared at Petunia with watchful skepticism, not sure what to make of her. Petunia might have dismissed it as something baby-like, but there was something about little Daria that was old beyond her years. She could almost believe that this one was a relative, she thought before stopping herself and then telling herself that the little girl would probably turn out to be a freak just like her nephew Harry.

It was then that she noticed that little Daria was staring at her with green eyes, not the brown eyes of her mum and her husband Jake. Green eyes, just like Lily's, fair skin, just like Lily's, auburn hair, just like Lily's. Petunia swallowed, trying to digest the implications.

The Morgendorffers would be leaving the house after breakfast. Helen informed Petunia that she had engaged a baby sitter for little Daria, and that she was welcome to either stay in the house and relax or walk around the neighborhood. Helen and her husband were going to go about formalizing their adoption with the magical and regular American governments. She left with her husband shortly after she introduced Petunia to Daria's sitter, an American college girl named Periwinkle Carruthers.

Helen and Jake took a cab to downtown Austin, and MACUSA's Austin offices. Helen expected the adoption to be a slow, elephantine process. It might have been so with another baby, even if it was performed solely under the auspices of MACUSA instead of in collusion with the State of Texas and the United States of America. But Harry Potter was no ordinary baby, and Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was not only the hero of the Grindelwald War, but now the successful leader of the resistance to Lord Voldemort's attempt to take over Magical Britain. Helen was almost as stunned as Minerva McGonagall at the speed of which the adoption process was proceeding. Obstacles that would affect other, more ordinary adoptions disappeared. Mountains were leveled, crooked roads made straight, parchment and paperwork was quickly passed through, hearings and interviews waved, and form after form was judged completed as the adoption process continued.

In the meantime, Petunia had decided to stay in. She was not feeling adventuresome and the sooner she left, the better.

At first, she decided to watch television. The Morgendorffers did not have much of a selection. They had three commercial channels that broadcast in English, another one that called itself a public station, and a fifth that broadcast in Spanish.

The little girl crawled over and sat. Not too close; she was a wary child, but near her. The sitter changed the channel to a program where ordinary people had been videotaped making pratfalls that they could have avoided if they'd been more sensible. The girl watched as grown men backed up and fell while posing for pictures, girls tried to high-kick and failed, a large dog took the edge of a tablecloth during a children's birthday party and then ran off with it, spilling the contents of a picnic table to the ground, and toddlers having mishaps while trying to master tricycles. One segment showed a grown woman trying to walk across a narrow beam while carrying two cakes in her outstretched arms and then falling off. The baby girl looked up at the television screen and said "Not smart." Petunia looked down from her seat on the couch with a half-smile and for a moment realized that whatever else the girl might be, in some things at least, they saw eye-to-eye.

Periwinkle sat on her seat reading some textbook while flicking an eye over at little Daria from time to time to see if she was staying out of trouble. That would not have worked with Lily, let alone Dudley. Petunia had faint memories of Lily crawling around their small house in Cokeworth, reinforced by her mother's reminisces when she and Lily got older. After an hour and a half of television, Petunia realized that she was excruciatingly bored. She went into the hall bathroom and discovered that Helen Morgendorffer had cleaning supplies stored in a cabinet under the sink, and started scrubbing.

The Morgendorffers returned in the early afternoon in a good mood. Little Harry was with him. Helen and Jake were almost giddy with joy. _Goes to show what you know_ , thought Petunia. _Just wait til he gets a little older, then you'll learn better._ Helen paid off Periwinkle and the college girl left. She then saw what Petunia had done with the hall bathroom and thanked her profusely.

The magicals arrived shortly afterwards. The British arrived first, using apparation, which awed baby Daria as much as it awed her father Jacob. The Americans arrived twenty minutes later using conventional means. Mrs. Powter suggested a celebratory lunch at the Nighthawk, a local restaurant. The Morgendorffers at first demurred, having only one baby car seat. That changed with a flick of Professor Dumbledore's wand, and they all went over, Petunia uncomfortably crammed into the back seat with Daria, Harry, and two child safety seats.

Petunia had to admit that the restaurant had character. The Magicals did attract a few stares, but the babies were more the centers of attention. Upon her return to the Morgendorffer house, she telephoned Vernon. It was now evening in Britain and Vernon had been frantic with worry. He wanted to talk to Dumbledore and then the Morgendorffers and give them a piece of his mind. Despite her usual deference, Petunia spent the next ten minutes calming him down and got him to grudgingly agree to a scheme one of the American wizards presented at lunch: a courier would stop by Privet Drive and pick up Petunia's purse and passport. Petunia would floo to New York that evening and check into a Muggle hotel near an airport, then, reunited with her purse and passport in hand, jet back to Britain on the first available flight. The American witch, Tabitha Powter, agreed to drive her over to a local public floo terminal so she could start on her way back to Surrey.

Jake Morgendorffer drove her to a travel agency to book a hotel room in New York and then find a flight back to Britain. They said little to each other. Upon her return from the travel agency, the Morgendorffers asked her if she wanted to say goodbye to Baby Harry, now officially Harry James Morgendorffer. Petunia looked at the little black-haired baby. She still couldn't bring herself to think of it as Lily's child; she thought of him as that lay-about's brat. She didn't doubt that he'd come to some bad end.

"Goodbye," she said shortly.

She then said goodbye to the adult Morgendorffers, trying to observe the proper forms of house guest to hosts and recognizing that she'd fallen short. Her farewell to Helen's child was slightly warmer. In spite of her hatred of magic, she found that she had just a little bit of admiration for Baby Daria. The little girl was probably as wild and strange as her dark-haired cousin, but she seemed to have a good head on her shoulders.

"Goodbye," she said, then added "Watch yourself." She turned her back and left the house with Mrs. Powter so she could be driven to a floo terminal so she could start her travel back to Britain.

Helen and Jake decided to spend their evening in with the children. There'd be more chores in the morning; Harry, now HJ, would enroll in day care with Daria. He also needed baby clothes.

Professor Dumbledore said that he'd stop by the next day and set up wards around the house. This being Austin and an eccentric part of Texas, neither Helen or Jake expected the neighbors to object if they spotted some old bearded guy digging holes and burying stones around their house. He'd leave after he was done.

HJ snuggled in with Jake and fell asleep. He still missed Dad, but he felt safe snuggled in the crook of Jake's arm. Daria sat next to Jake and HJ. Things had already changed at her house. So far, the new baby was all right. She wondered what would happen next.

Author's Note: This story will have scenes covering the next ten years as I write them. Some will be out of order. I've just completed a camping scene involving HJ and Uncle Jake which seems appropriate for this time of year, despite the fact that it doesn't occur until HJ is eight.


	12. Chapter 12

Harry Potter Morgendorffer Halloween Campout

 _Daria_ is the creation of Glenn Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. _Harry Potter_ is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling and Warner Brothers, as are its characters and situations. I don't own them, and neither expect nor deserve financial compensation for this story. I am writing for my own amusement and for ego gratification.

What if Minerva McGonagall had been able to persuade Professor McGonagall to place baby Harry Potter with different blood relatives instead of with Petunia Dursley and her husband: the Morgendorffers from MTV's _Daria_?

Rated "T" for language.

Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer

 _The end of October already?_ Helen went through her day planner. She used paper; she suspected that she'd continue to use paper throughout her career. She now worked for the Goblins and learned that magic interfered with electronics.

"Jake, are you and HJ going to be at the Halloween party this weekend?" asked Helen.

"Sorry, Helen, but HJ and I are going to be camping Saturday night. It's the Halloween campout."

"Janey from the office is holding that children's party," said Helen. "I think you ought to consider going."

"HJ and I had looked forward to this camping trip," said Jake. "We've been signed up for months."

Helen shook her head fondly at her husband, who had started picking out clothes to wear for the campout. She thought the idea was a little strange. _The boys were going to be out camping this weekend instead of trick or treating or going to a Halloween party? Who else but Jakey would want to go on a Halloween camp out?_

 _Well, HJ,_ she thought. Over the years since he'd come to live with them, HJ had come to think of Jake as a Dad despite the fact that both of them knew that Jake wasn't his real father. And the two had bonded much like father and son.

"Still going on that campout this weekend?" Daria said a little later/

"Yeah," said HJ. "Dad and I are going to go out into the Hill Country and be wild men."

"Don't get eaten by coyotes," said Daria. "I read they get particularly hungry this time of year."

"Thanks, Daria," said HJ.

HJ had mixed feelings about the campout. He didn't worry about it being cold, not here in the Hill Country. It wasn't like it was the end of December or January or anything. It was cool in the evenings, but not freezing.

True, he'd miss the regular stuff about Halloween. It was fun to go out in a costume and see how much candy he could get if he went trick-or-treating, but he knew that his hours would be cut short. Last year Aunt Helen and Uncle Jake imposed an 8:30 curfew for trick or treating. Still camping was better than going to a kiddie party with Quinn and her little circle of friends; Quinn had ways of making her part of the party all about her. Daria couldn't wriggle out of it; She'd have to go. HJ felt a little sorry for her, but not too much: his adopted sister was tougher than she looked.

HJ and Uncle Jake spent the early part of the next morning loading up camping gear—sleeping bags, camping cookwear, a water cooler, and some paper plates and napkins that had been stashed in the pantry. They then made a stop at the H-E-B grocery store and loaded up on food, plastic forks, knives, and spoons, as well as the essentials—canned beans, chili, bread, eggs, sausage, and hot dogs.

The campground was somewhere between thirty and forty miles from Ruskin as the crows flew, but at least fifteen more when you threw in the county roads to get to the camp site. They got to the campground and started unloading the car. Dad and he had brought a tent, two sleeping bags, a cooler, and a chest with dry food. They'd tried living off the land a couple of years ago during a family campout and Mom had said never again.

One of the parcels next to the campground was a paleo-Indian site owned by an archaeological conservancy. Some pot hunters had removed a couple of arrowheads, but most of the site was still intact. One of the volunteers who watched the site to make sure that looters stayed out said that it was thought to have been some sort of ceremonial site. Nobody was sure.

They'd brought lunch. The dads had gotten together and planned it out beforehand. Nothing fancy: hamburgers with lettuce, tomatoes, pickles, or onions. Cheese was optional. Jake had brought some hamburger patties as well as condiments. They'd not use the camp fire for cooking, though. They'd be using a couple of small, efficient propane cook stoves instead.

After lunch, the fathers and sons took a short hike out of the campground and down the road they'd taken to get there, then a short walk inside the fencing at the edge of the campground. Most of the surrounding area was ranch country, and to prove it, they could see and hear cattle on the other side of the barbed wire.

This campout would be a little special; it was Halloween after all. They had gotten permission to build a campfire if they tended it and then put it out before leaving. They'd not use the camp fire for cooking, though. They'd use the camp stoves again. Jake silently grumbled about his stove's lack of romance, but thought it worked anyway. Pete, who'd previously gone camping with Jake, was relieved that Jake had had to stick with store-bought beans and chili and hadn't had a chance to do any free-style cooking.

They all sat around the camp fire after cooking chili and canned beans for their evening meal. The boys talked about school, football, and occasionally video games while they ate; the fathers about jobs, wives, cars, previous campouts, and football. The campfire's flickering flames and the wood smoke giving an air of authenticity and a sense of really being outdoors. After dinner, the dads started telling ghost stories. Austin and Brewster told good ones; you could almost see the shape-shifter crawling through the underbrush and dragging away the hapless campers who hadn't listened to the warnings. Brewster's story about the Wendigo was just about as good. The young boys thought that those stories couldn't really happen, but they'd been scared anyway. It wasn't until much later that Harry learned that at least half of the stories Austin and Brewster had told them were all too possible.

It drew on, and fathers and sons began to get sleepy. Some of the guys started turning in. Jake and HJ held out longer than Austin, Paul, Brewster, and Gil. They first unzipped the bug screen, took off their shoes, then slid into their old-style sleeping bags.

It was late at night and Pete and Gus were the last ones left. Their boys had turned in earlier. The campfire had burned down to a couple of glowing embers that either lay loose or still clung to the cedar they'd use to build the fire. Pete pulled out a flask he'd hidden in his back pack and offered it to Gus. "The kids are asleep," he said. "I think we can have a nip or two before we turn in."

Gus took a pull and handed the flask back to Pete. "This is nice," he said. "I need a break from the rat race every now and then."

"Want another?" he asked Gus.

"Just one," Gus replied.

Gus had taken another nip from the flask when he saw a figure standing just out of the moonlight.

"Hallo," it said. _English_ , thought Gus. There was still something of the boy left in him; he couldn't be more than twenty five.

"Hadn't seen you earlier," said Pete, which was his back-handed way of saying _who are you and what are you doing here._

"I'm James," said the ghostly figure.

Gus was an amateur photographer who occasionally took night photos in black and white, so he knew a thing about light and shadow. He knew how moonlight leached out colors at night but James was a shimmering white. _Holy Crap, this was a_ real _ghost_ , he thought.

"So you are?" asked Gus.

"I'm Harry's, no, HJ's real da," said James.

Gus studied the ghost's features. So did Pete. Straight, messy hair, eyeglasses, chin. There was a lot more of the ghost's features in HJ than there were of Jake's.

"What are you doing here?" said Pete.

"Well, it's Samhain and the barriers between the worlds are weaker this time of year. There's a buried circle of power next door, so I decided to come over and take a look."

"So where are they?"

 _He must mean Jake and HJ_ , thought Pete. "They're sleeping in that tent over there," he said.

Gus was slightly buzzed, but still had some of his wits about him. "You know if you wake them up, you'll scare the snot out of both of them and they'll knock down the tent," he said.

"Good point," James reluctantly conceded. "Then I'll have to be quiet, won't I?"

The ghostly figure walked over to the Morgendorffers' tent. The moonlight gently lit HJ's sleeping face. James pushed his head in through the bug netting at the front for a long time, staring at HJ's sleeping figure. He eventually stepped back, turned away, then walked back to the camp fire.

I'll have to ask you two sots to carry a message for Jake when he wakes up."

"What message?" Gus said warily.

"Not too complex. I think even I'd remember it after a long night out," said the ghostly James.

 _Smart ass_ , thought Pete.

"Tell him he's doing a good job with Harry," said James. "And Lily says Hello to Aunt Helen."

 _Who's Lily_ , thought Pete.

"Good night," said James, who walked into the brush and then vanished from sight.


	13. Chapter 13

HP Morgendorffer Ruskin Quinn Pentagon

 _Daria_ is the creation of Glenn Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. _Harry Potter_ is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling and Warner Brothers. I own neither, and neither expect nor deserve financial compensation for this story. I am writing for my own amusement and for ego gratification.

What if Minerva McGonagall had been able to persuade Professor McGonagall to place baby Harry Potter with different blood relatives instead of with Petunia Dursley and her husband: the Morgendorffers from MTV's _Daria_?

Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer

 _A New Baby Sister_

The big change came when both HJ and Daria were too young to understand what was going on. HJ had been living with Helen, Jake, and Daria for half a year now and had settled in as a member of the family. He and Daria had both learned to walk, they could speak complete sentences, and they were just too young for pre-school. But they still missed a lot of the big stuff.

"So Helen, how did your trip to the doctor go?" said Jake.

His wife Helen smiled. "The home test was right. I'm pregnant!"

"Great!" said Jake. "Do you know if it's going to be a boy or a girl?"

"It's too early to tell," said Helen. "We'll know when I'm further along."

"Do you have any guesses, Honey?" asked Jake.

"I think," Helen said thoughtfully, "that it's going to be a girl."

At first, neither Daria nor HJ realized that Helen had gotten pregnant. They had learned that Helen had gone to the Doctor and that the Doctor had wanted to run some tests. They only learned that she was pregnant after a family meeting when Helen told them that she was expecting a baby. HJ was still confused at first, he thought that babies were delivered like packages, and kept an eye on the front door to see if the Post Office delivered a new baby sister or brother. Later they learned that Helen meant that she was pregnant. Neither Daria not HJ knew just how Helen had gotten pregnant; when Daria asked, Jake shut up, Helen blushed, and then Helen told them that she'd tell them when they got older.

For a while it seemed like Helen's pregnancy would go on forever and ever. Helen was pregnant, and she was getting bigger. Some things changed; Helen's friends came over and threw her a baby shower. Mom had gotten bigger and sometimes she was cranky. Sometimes she was so cranky that she'd yell at Jake or he'd drive off to the store to buy her something. As the months went on, Helen and Jake unpacked and repainted some of the baby furniture they'd used for Daria and HJ at the old house. They did learn that the new baby would be a girl, which made Daria happy; HJ not so much.

Helen and Jake did share the news with other members of the family. Helen called her mother and her sisters. Jake called Grandma Ruth, tried to call his brother Ben, but did manage to pass on the news to his sister Evie. The various Barksdales and Morgendorffers extended their congratulations and offered their hopes and prayers for Helen and the baby that was growing inside of her.

Aunt Amy came to visit while Helen was pregnant. HJ had never met Aunt Amy before. Helen and Jake made a special effort to look over the living, dining and guest rooms to hide any magical objects Helen had been given at work or paper from MACUSA. Harry and Daria did have to hide a couple of magical toys, but a couple of others could stay out: those had dummy battery packs and fake on-off switches.

Helen told HJ that he shouldn't show off his stuff, even if he thought it could cheer her up. HJ rolled his eyes; he'd been visited by Mrs. Kettler, the lady from MACUSA, who'd told him the same thing. Helen was impressed with her sister's reaction when she met HJ; aside from Aunt Amy's raising her eyebrows when she saw HJ'd scar, the two of them were on almost as good terms as Amy was with Daria. _Quite unlike her grand-niece,_ she thought dourly.

Finally, the day came when Mom went to the hospital. Dad joined her. HJ and Daria had spent the night at Mrs. Haines' while Dad and Mom were in the hospital.

Jake called them from the hospital. Both HJ and Daria waited nervously while Mrs. Haines talked to Jake, and then handed the receiver after announcing "HJ, Daria, your Mom has delivered a new baby. It's a girl."

Helen came home a couple of days later. She held a small, squirming thing that looked even smaller than the baby figures they sold at the stores and wore a big smile.

"HJ, Daria this is your new baby sister," she said. "Say hello to Quinn." HJ looked at baby Quinn, smiled and said "Hi!" Daria looked at the new baby girl in the household. They locked eyes with each other. The baby looked back at her and smiled.

 _This kid is going to be a pain in the butt_ , thought Daria.

"You want the truth about just when Quinn and I realized that we were going to be rivals?" Daria said much later. "I think it was when I saw her for the first time she came home from the hospital. I was three then. We took one look at each other and that's when it started."

-(((O-O)))-

It took a while for HJ to get a feel for Quinn's personality. He did know that she cried a lot; he not only heard her when he was home, but he also overheard Aunt Helen saying that she was noisier than Daria and he had been. He soon learned that Quinn loved being the center of Helen's and Jake's attention.

If Daria wasn't the center of Mom's attention anymore she did discover that there was some action with Dad and HJ. It was fun but sometimes scary to watch Dad use power tools and then listen to him yell when something went wrong. Still, sometime his garage projects did work out. By the time they moved into the big house, both of them had book cases. Daria's book case soon began to fill with picture books and primary readers. HJ's book case began to fill too, just more slowly. HJ's tastes ran towards adventure books; Daria's more of an intellectual bent.

Both of them discovered early that life with Quinn could be trying. Quinn did a lot of crying at first; she either wanted or needed attention and if Helen was doing anything with them while she thought Quinn was sleeping, she'd have to get up and run for the nursery. By the time they were both ready for pre-school, both saw that Quinn not only wanted to be the center of attention, she already had started to form her own circle with other toddlers who'd been invited over to play together. She sometimes got jealous of how close Daria and HJ were and cried when she felt she'd been left out.

"The party isn't complete until the Princess arrives," said Daria, rolling her eyes.

 _Levitating the Pentagon_

As HJ and Daria grew older, Helen and Jake began to share about their past. HJ learned about Buxton Ridge Military Academy and soon shuddered at the thought. Daria learned that Helen turned down a chance to attend a girl's private school like her sisters and chose instead to go to the local public high school. They learned that their parents met each other at Middleton College and had gotten married shortly after they graduated. They then moved to Iowa and spent a couple of years living on a commune. Neither of them knew what a commune was, but Helen and Jake told tham that it was something like a farm.

HJ and Daria found out more about the commune, or at least some. One of Helen's friends from their commune days, Jillian, had come over to visit a few times, admire HJ, and talked about older people they used to know and sometimes about what happened to them after they went their separate ways. HJ learned that Jillian lived at one of the other communes, not the one where Jake and Helen lived. HJ was surprised to learn that Jake had some car skills, and had helped someone named Ski fix the tractor and seed drills.

Not many of Helen's and Jake's friends from the commune or college lived near Ruskin. That changed one afternoon Helen and Jake welcomed a stranger into their living room. He was a little fat, with red-faced, and a short hair cut. He was wearing a dark green sports jacket with a loud necktie.

"Daria, HJ, Quinn," said Jake. "This is Wapiti. We call him Wye. We knew him from college and our hippy days."

Quinn enthusiastically said "HI!"Daria and HJ gave guarded hellos.

Wye looked aroung the Morgendorffer house with amusement. "So selling out to the Man has its rewards," he said. "A big house and one, two, three kids." Both Helen and Jake grimaced.

"HJ isn't ours," said Helen.

"He's adopted," said Jake.

"So how did that happen?" asked Wye. "Some old girlfriend had a rug-rat she couldn't handle?"

"No," said Jake.

"I learned I had some English cousins a few years ago and that HJ was an orphan, and we took him in," Helen finished.

"Ooh, bummer," said Wye.

Wye noticed HJ holding a new baseball that Jake had given him for his birthday to complement the one he'd gotten from the Mad Dog and Grandma Ruth as a Hanukah present.

"So, Jake, are you grooming HJ to be a football star?" said Wye.

"I don't think he's got the build for it," said Jake. "Besides, I think he'd be more interested in baseball anyway." Jake and HJ sometimes went out and played catch using tennis balls and catcher's mitts. At other times they had batting practice using hollow plastic bats and whiffle balls. HJ had great reflexes and good eye-hand co-ordination. The Mad Dog had given him a real baseball for Hannukah and Aunt Evie had given him one of her son's old catcher's mitts. Jake planned to give HJ a softball when he was bigger; HJ was five and a half and softballs were still a little heavy for kids that size.

"I didn't think that he'd see an incoming fly ball with the glasses," said Wye.

"You'd be surprised," said Jake. Harry was not only good at catching the whiffle ball, but was already showing a knack for catching tennis balls, even when Jake used sent them in HJ's direction using tennis serves. As a lark, he'd even tossed a few golf balls at HJ and had been surprised at how good HJ was at catching them.

"Remember the time when we tried to levitate the Pentagon?" said Wye. "There were six of us."

Helen gave Jake The Look.

"Yeah, you, Dawn, Helen, me, Willow, and Coyote," said Jake. "Are you and Dawn still together?"

"No, we split up," said Wye.

Helen, Jake, and Wye had gone their separate ways after trying to levitate the Pentagon. Helen and Jake had moved to the commune; Wye had tried to live the hippy life in small exurban towns, gave it up, and became a roving manager for a chain of computer stores.

They went out to dinner that evening, a country restaurant on the road to Wimberley. Wye kidded Helen about the cooking and suggested that Jake could get a job as a cook if his job at the ad agency didn't work out.

Wye presented them with a gift at dinner. He insisted that they open it up at the restaurant. Jake and Helen opened it up and discovered that Wye had given them a plaster model of the Pentagon.

"Like old times," said Wye, laughing.

"Yeah, like old times," said Jake.

Jake and Helen put the plaster model of the Pentagon on the coffee table. Wye left shortly afterwards. He was in the area on a business trip and had to travel to San Antonio afterwards.

"That's Wye," said Jake.

"Wye is an ass," said Helen. "He tries to be sensitive, but there's something missing inside."

"Uncle Jake," said HJ, "What does levitate mean?"

"It means to make an object rise off the ground without using cables or rope," said Jake. "Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering," said HJ.

The plaster Pentagon was still on the coffee table a couple of nights later. HJ knew that sometimes Aunt Helen and Uncle Jake kept things, but sometimes they threw them away, too. He suspected that the plaster Pentagon was one of the latter. He looked at Wye's plaster Pentagon and had an idea.

Daria came in a short time later and saw HJ studying Wye's present.

"OK, what are you thinking?" asked Daria.

"Let's see if we can levitate the Pentagon," said HJ.

"Seriously?" said Daria.

"Yeah," said HJ. "Helen and Jake tried it. I bet we can."

HJ and Daria set Waipiti's plaster Pentagon on the floor.

"This is nuts," said Daria.

"Let's try it," said HJ.

"I think it's a waste of time," said Daria.

"We gotta try it once," said HJ.

"Whatever," said Daria.

They both stared intensely at the plaster Pentagon for a minute. It refused to budge.

"We have to close our eyes so we can concentrate," said Daria. "Otherwise something will distract us and we can't do it."

They both looked at the plaster Pentagon, then shut their eyes and concentrated. Their eyes now closed, both children concentrated on levitating the Pentagon.

HJ opened his eyes first. What he saw made him grin. "Daria, look," he said. Daria opened her eyes and then stared in amazement. The plaster Pentagon was no longer on the floor, but now floating two feet off the carpet.

Quinn came in to see what HJ and Daria were up to. She did not like what she saw. HJ and her sister were doing something that didn't include her.

That evening, HJ and Daria decided to show off.

"Mom, Dad, (HJ sometimes called Helen and Jake Mom and Dad), Daria and I have something to show you."

"Remember when you told us that you tried to levitate the Pentagon when you were young?" said HJ.

"Unh, hunh," said Jake.

"Well, Daria and I managed to levitate Wye's model Pentagon."

"OK," Jake said warily.

HJ picked up the plaster Pentagon and set it on the floor. He and Daria then sat on either side of it and closed their eyes. Quinn looked at them skeptically from her place by Helen's side but said nothing. The plaster model's flight path was a little jerky this time, what with the television and other distractions, but it did rise off the floor.

Jake looked at Wye's dreadful plaster model and stared open-mouth. So did Helen.

They. Levitated. The. Pentagon," he said.

"They did indeed," Helen said slowly. She knew that HJ was a wizard; he sometimes had bursts of accidental magic, but she'd never seen him do anything with deliberate intent before. This was a whole new ball game.

"Very good, HJ, Daria," said Helen, although she doubted that her older daughter had much to do with HJ's success. "But remember what Mrs. Kettler says."

"Yes, Mom, not in front of strangers."

That night Jake snuggled up to Helen and said "Honey, maybe we should have practiced with something small like Wye's model before we tried to go for the big time."

Helen swatted him with her pillow.

-(((O-O)))-

Author's note: According to Daria canon, Jake, Helen, Willow, and Coyote DID try to levitate the Pentagon back in their hippie days. Their attempt was mentioned in the Daria episode "That Was Then, This Is Dumb."


	14. Chapter 14

Daria is the creation of Glen Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom Harry Potter is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling and Warner Brothers. . I own neither, and neither expect nor deserve financial compensation for this story. I am writing for my own amusement and ego gratification.

Please gratify my ego and write a nice review.

Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer*

It was a weekend conference in Houston. The oil industry bust had hit the regular Texas economy hard, and the savings and loans had been particularly hard-hit, with S&Ls going broke left and right. Mr. Bloodworth had sent her to a conference to see if there were ways for Gringotts of Texas to profit from the financial distress.

Getting to Houston was faster than she thought. Helen Morgendorffer had discovered that while she wasn't a witch, she did have enough magic in her ancestry to qualify as what MACUSA officialdom nick-named as a "wild squib." That simplified travel arrangements. She could get Jake to drop her off at Ruskin's public floo terminal, travel to a public floo terminal near downtown Houston, then use ordinary taxis.

The Goblins made their own travel arrangements. Bloodworth, Speedicutt, and some of the other Goblins at the bank had taught her a lot about Goblin culture and manners, but she and they preferred to live separate lives off-work. And make separate travel arrangements. Helen had gotten a nice room at a higher-end hotel chain.

Helen and the Goblins had already met up after her arrival in Houston and discussed ways for Gringotts to pick up some of the distressed properties that were dragging the savings and loan associations towards bankruptcy. Old Dime Box Savings and Loan had some interesting real estate near Houston's Intercontinental Airport that had possibilities. They'd had dinner while discussing business: the Goblins eating thick steak cooked rare while Helen stuck with a salad. She went back to her hotel and retired shortly after that. She fell asleep shortly afterwards

That was when things started to going off. Helen opened her eyes and looked at the alarm clock. The clock said it was 7:30 AM. Late. She was late. She got out of bed, and hurried over to the bathroom to freshen up and to put on her face. Go. Go. Go.

It was while she was putting on her make-up that things changed from the stressful to the weird. It was like something out of _Sleeper_ , the old Woody Allen movie. She was trying to use the mirror to put on her make-up, but the mirror's image kept changing from her own reflection to someone else's, a younger red-headed woman with long straight hair that Helen thought she remembered seeing somewhere before.

"Would you stop changing the channel?" Helen said irritably. "I'm trying to get ready for today's conference."

"You're not awake yet," said the woman in the mirror. "You're still in your bed.

 _This mirror had sound_ , she thought incredulously.

"What do you mean?" said Helen.

"This is a vision," said the girl in the reflection.

"So who are you?" asked Helen.

"I'm Lily," she said. "I'm your grand-niece. I'm Rose's grand-daughter."

Even in the half-dream phase, Helen's dream-mind was close enough to her waking self that she recognized her. _This_ was _Lily_.

She was so surprised that she felt herself growing weak in the knees. She was glad that the bathroom had a chair and sat down.

"We finally get to meet," said Helen

"So we do," said Lily. "Professor Dumbledore's wards are formidable."

Helen looked at her great-niece's image in the mirror. _So young_ , she thought. Lily had only been twenty two when she was murdered. For Helen, twenty-two had been half a lifetime ago, about the time of her graduation and before she moved to the commune.

"Thank you for taking in Harry," said Lily.

"I'm sorry that we couldn't let him grow up with you" said Helen.

"I'm glad you were there to take him in," said Lily. "Dumbledore originally wanted to place him with my sister."

"Petunia?" said Helen. "We've met. We did not get along. She reminds me of some of my other cousins. They're still fighting the Civil War."

Lily looked blank at Helen's comment. Helen could see that Lily hadn't gotten Helen's reference.

"How is he doing?" Lily asked.

"He's doing well," said Helen. "He's doing well in school, he gets along with my older daughter Daria, and he's crazy about baseball. He and Jake occasionally go out and play macho man together. I'd say he's happy living with us."

"He does miss you and James. I see it sometimes."

"Thank you," said Lily. "Could you tell him that James and I love him?"

"I can," said Helen.

"Speaking of children, Helen, you should pay more attention to your children while you have the chance," said Lily. "They'll be out of the house before you know it."

"I get that lecture from Mother all the time," said Helen. "What do you mean?"

"Well in your case, Harry is going to off to boarding school before you know it," said Lily. "Daria won't be far behind."

"Daria's probably going to go to one of the local schools or take honors track at Ruskin High School," Helen replied. "I'll still have a few years to enjoy her company," she added smugly.

Lily gave her a look that reminded Helen of her aunt Ella, her father's sister. Ella was not one to continue arguing when she'd been verbally out-argued or outflanked but hadn't been convinced. Instead, she gave her opponent her look. It was a look that said "You're wrong, I know it, and you'll find out that I was right all along."

What was Lily trying to say? Was Lily trying to say that Daria was magical? Helen didn't think that was likely. True, there were the occasional conferences with MACUSA's social workers and Mrs. Kettler had to come over to talk about Harry's outbursts of accidental magic, but she couldn't believe that Daria was that much like Harry. Besides, if Daria was a witch, she'd probably tell her.

Maybe Mother was going to help Helen send Daria off to a good boarding school, she thought. Helen still resented the way she played favorites.

"Do you talk to Petunia?" asked Lily.

"Not really," said Helen. "Once Petunia got back to England after we took custody of Harry, she hasn't called or written us. We've sent them Christmas cards, but we haven't heard back from them."

"You're on the other side, aren't you?" said Helen.

It took Lily a moment to understand what Helen was saying. "Yes, I'm dead," she said.

"Could you say Hello to Father and to Rose for me?" said Helen. "Tell Dad that I miss him and tell Rose hello from her younger sister Helen."

"I can do that," said Lily.

Helen got ready to say something else, but Lily held up her hand.

"Aunt Helen, my time is limited," said Lily. "I only have a couple of moments left."

"A word. Horcruxes. Write that word down."

"Got it," said Helen. "Horcrux." She reached out to touch the mirror with her hand and felt something tugging at her arm. Her arm started feeling colder.

The bathroom disappeared and Helen found herself in her hotel room bed.

Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer*

Author's note: There really is a community called Old Dime Box in Texas. It's an unincorporated area that has a population of around 200 souls. To the best of my knowledge, it never had a savings and loan-type bank.


	15. Chapter 15

Harry Potter Morgendorffer First Grade Part One

Daria is the creation of Glen Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. Harry Potter and its characters are the creation of JK Rowling, and are the property of JK Rowling and Warner Brothers. I own neither, and neither expect nor deserve any financial compensation for this story. I am writing for my own amusement and for ego gratification.

Speaking of ego gratification: How about writing a gratifying positive review?

-(((O-O)))—

Six year-old Harry James (HJ) Morgendorffer walked through the doors of J. Frank Dobie Elementary School with his cousin Daria in Ruskin, Texas. Despite the fact that this was Dobie Elementary and that he'd been here last year, HJ still felt a little on edge. School had started, they were now in the first grade, and Aunt Helen had told him that things were now serious and that she and Uncle Jake were counting on him to work hard and make good grades.

Fortunately, both HJ and Daria had been here last year and had already learned the school's layout: two floors, an auditorium, a gym, a library, and a computer room. They passed the room where they'd gone to kindergarten last year and HJ gave a sigh of nostalgia; he'd had fun there. His new room was a little further down the hall.

Room 1-107 was where his school day would start. He and Daria took seats in the middle. After introducing herself as Mrs. Perez, the teacher started taking role. Harry counted up the number of students and noted that there were twenty three other kids in class besides him and Daria. HJ didn't pay that much attention to roll call. Besides, he'd met most of the kids last year. Bored and looking for distraction, he started playing with his pen.

After taking the cap on and putting it back on several times, Harry imagined the cap to be the cockpit of a hyper-sonic rocket plane. He thought about where he would like to fly it, but decided he'd better check in and see where Mrs. Perez had gotten with roll call.

"Lovett, Marcia," said the Teacher.

 _Oops_ , thought HJ. _I zoned out a little too long._

"Here!" said a chubby blond-haired girl.

"Lyle, Justin," said the teacher

"Here," said another Anglo kid.

 _Wake up, Morgendorffer, they've gotten to the M's,_ he told himself.

"Masterson, Bartholomew," said the teacher

"Here," said a nervous, skinny boy with red hair. HJ felt a little sorry for him. Getting named after a Wild West hero probably meant that he was going to have a whole lot of crap dumped on him.

"McKean, William," said the teacher. There was a pause.

"McKean, William," the teacher said.

"Oh, uh, Here," said a brown-haired boy who'd been zoning out like he had and had just gotten caught.

"Mendoza, Juan," said the teacher.

"Here," said a brown-haired, light-skinned boy. _Huh_ , thought HJ, _I thought Mexicans were all brown-skinned and dark-haired_.

"Moreno, Isabel," said the teacher.

"Here," said Isobel.

"Morgendorffer, Daria," said the teacher

Here," said Daria.

"Morgendorffer, Harry," said the teacher.

"Here," said HJ. He'd grown used to being called HJ, but Aunt Helen and Uncle Jake told him that he'd still have to answer to Harry for what they called "official stuff."

"Morgendorffer," said the teacher. "School rules. No caps at school. Take your cap off."

Harry grudgingly took off his cap. The teacher stared at him.

"Morgendorffer, is that a scar on your forehead?" said the teacher.

 _Oh, crap_ , thought Harry.

"Yeah," said Harry. He'd heard a lot more about his scar than he wanted to remember.

"How long have you had it?"

"I've had it since I was a baby," said Harry.

"Go see the school nurse," said Mrs. Perez.

The school nurse asked him the same question about his scar. HJ told her the truth: he'd had the scar since he was a baby and that he'd had it before Uncle Jake and Aunt Helen had adopted him. The school nurse told him that he didn't have to cover for adults if they were being bad, particularly if they were abusing him. She told him that she would be contacting Child Protective Services. It was for his own good of course.

Harry went home in a state close to panic. He knew that Uncle Jake and Aunt Helen weren't the very best parents in the world, but they loved him, he loved them, and he thought they treated him pretty well. He knew that he was adopted, and he was scared that the powers-that-be would find some way to take him away and throw him in an orphanage or worse, send him back to England where he didn't know anybody and he'd never see Aunt Helen, Uncle Jake, his sisters, or his friends again.

Luckily Aunt Helen came home early that day and HJ told her about Mrs. Perez, the school nurse, and their plan to contact Child Protective Services. Aunt Helen asked Daria if she knew anything about it, and she told her that the school nurse had also asked her to come to her office and be brave and step forward if she thought that she and HJ were being abused.

After announcing her indignation at the teacher's and the school nurse's assumptions, Helen's first thought was to think about legal options. Unfortunately, the state would probably get to send social workers home to interview both her and Jake. She thought about Jake being interviewed by a CPS case worker or worse, Jake being grilled in open court by an attorney working for the state. She grimaced. Jake would never hurt her or his children, but a judge might not see it that way. As much as she wanted to fight it in court, she worried that Child Protective Services would win and that HJ would be taken away.

She'd been around the magical world for almost five years now. She'd begun learning its by-ways, but some of its practices, particularly obliviation and memory-modification deeply offended her. She'd rather fight using civil law, but keeping HJ and her daughters safe overrode her qualms about tapping into MACUSA's resources. Her childrens' privacy and safety came first, no matter what.

She picked up the phone and dialed a number. "Mrs. Kettler, this is Helen Morgendorffer," she said. "We have a situation."

Mrs. Kettler arrived within two hours. She greeted Helen, Jake, HJ, Daria, and Quinn, smiled indulgently when Jake raised his voice in outrage at the CPS, and asked everyone to settle down and relax.

Helen told Mrs. Kettler about HJ and his encounters with his new teacher and with the school nurse.

"Thank you for contacting us, Mrs. Morgendorffer, you did the right thing," said Mrs. Kettler.

"I'd rather have resolved the matter using more conventional methods," said Helen, "but I'm afraid that the case workers won't accept that Lord Tom caused HJ's scar, not something Jake or I did.

"We'll take care of it our way," said Mrs. Kettler. "This whole thing should blow over in a couple of weeks."

-(((O-O)))-

As the days went by, Mrs. Perez became concerned that the investigation concerning HJ Morgendorffer's scar had stalled. First the Child Protective Services case worker told her told her that the investigation was on-going, then that it was resolved. The school nurse then told her that she accepted the case worker's determination after all and that there wasn't a problem.

HJ Morgendorffer's scar refused to heal. Mrs. Perez decided that the case worker was either lazy or had lost track. She resolved to try to go higher up in Child Protective Service's bureaucracy to get the Morgendorffer investigation moving forward again. She left the school building that afternoon thinking about what offices within CPS that she should call. There were two people, a man and a woman, both middle-aged and non-descript, waiting for her when she reached the row in the faculty parking lot where she'd parked her car. Both of them were carrying wands. "Mrs. Perez," said the middle-aged woman, pointing her wand at her before she could open her mouth to cry out, "we need to talk."

-(((O-O)))—

Author's note: Child Protective Services is the Texas state agency tasked with monitoring abused and neglected children and, if necessary, placing them in foster care.


	16. Chapter 16

HP Morgendorffer FF First Grade Part II

What if Minerva McGonagall had successfully persuaded Albus Dumbledore not to leave the infant Harry Potter on the Dursleys' doorstep, but instead place him with the Morgendorffer family from MTV's Daria?

-(((O-O)))-

Disclaimer: Daria is the creation of Glenn Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. Harry Potter and its characters are the creation of JK Rowling and are the property of JK Rowling and Warner Brothers. I own neither, and neither expect nor deserve to benefit financially from this story. I am writing strictly for my own amusement and ego gratification.

Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer

The fuss about HJ's scar now behind the Morgendorffer family and the remainder of the fall term at J. Frank Dobie Elementary School went by without incident. HJ and Daria applied themselves with connecting letters with sounds, symbols with numbers, and stringing letters together to form words and were soon reading and doing arithmetic at levels well beyond many of their school-mates. They also began to learn about history, geography, and some of the sciences. When an intern working with Mrs. Kettler asked him how much he'd learned in school thus far, HJ smirked and said that while he wasn't a rocket scientist yet, he'd learned which end of a bottle rocket had a fuse.

Daria was a little jealous of HJ. He wasn't one of the really popular kids, but he didn't seem to have any problems making friends. She found that making friends was harder for her. She did have a couple of girl friends she hung with, originally a couple of girls she'd met in pre-school and kindergarten, as well as a couple of new girls they met in first grade. They read, they watched movies, and occasionally they played with dolls, although Daria's dolls tended to be serious young women who were more interested in writing and pursuing careers than dressing in the latest styles or finding boyfriends. They did play house. A couple of their moms actually let them help in the kitchen.

At first Daria was a little reluctant to invite her friends over to play; she worried that her friends might see HJ's accidental magic. That didn't happen. She and HJ got along well enough, but he'd started to act like a guy; he either hung with his own friends or did something by himself when she had friends over.

Some things did change. While Daria was sure she wasn't a witch, she did have several dreams about HJ, some of which were about what would have happened if Mom and Dad hadn't adopted him. Sometimes she saw him as an unwanted step-child living in an ugly house being bullied by his step-parents. He was thin and miserable and she was torn between wanting to cry or jump in there, take names, and kick butt. Sometimes he was in an orphanage, somewhat better fed, but alone and unloved. She told herself that that wasn't going to happen if she had anything to do with it.

Once in a while Mom and Dad would go out on what they called "date nights." Despite the fact that it wasn't an official MACUSA function, Mrs. Kettler had provided them with a list of baby-sitters who were "within the loop" as far as knowing about real magic. Mom and Dad also were able to get Jillian from their commune days to sit them . Daria had mixed feelings about Jillian. She was nice enough, but she too often treated HJ like he was a mini-celebrity. She also kept trying to get Daria to show signs of magic herself. Daria thought Jillian was wasting her time; HJ had it, she didn't.

As the fall semester went on, both Daria and HJ had settled into first grade, and both received positive reports about their academic and developmental processes at the end of the first quarter. HJ was complimented for his academic progress and his social skills, but Mrs. Perez was concerned that Daria was not that skilled at making friends. Still, Miss Morgendorffer was clearly learning how to read and write, kept up with the assignments, and if she sometimes needed a prod to join some of the activity groups, she didn't withdraw and isolate herself.

HJ and Daria developed mixed attitudes towards PE. Daria thought that most of the physical activities bored her and she didn't like the way that some of the slowest and most thick-witted of her classmates suddenly became the kings and queens of the playground. HJ didn't mind PE so much. As a matter of fact, he enjoyed it. Not only did he like the competition, he learned that the other kids wanted him on their teams. If he wasn't the best at volleyball or flag football , he was good enough not to be a drag on the rest of the team. What frustrated HJ was that there weren't very many boys his age who were into baseball.

Christmas came and went. All three of the Morgendorffer children cleaned up: HJ got a new fielder's mitt, both he and Daria got new books, and both Daria and Quinn got new dolls. HJ also got a cool toy from Jillian: a magical toy, a wand that shot out cotton balls. Daria found HJ's toy irritating; sometimes he pointed it at her and shot volleys of cotton balls when she was trying to read something. The best way to get HJ to quit was if she got up and gave him a smack; she'd tried using his toy on him, but it more often than not didn't work for her. Daria knew that HJ's toy wand was magical toy and wondered why it sometimes worked for her. She eventually decided that the reason had to be something like a magical version of static electricity, some sort of residual charge.

Superbowl came and went, as did the All-Stars games. Some of the boys attempted to play basketball, but it was difficult to store; the adult-sized basketballs the PE department had stocked were large and awkward and the hoops were set incredibly high.

Valentine's Day arrived. Daria did her family duty and not only sent valentines to Mom and Dad and Quinn and HJ, but also to all three of her aunts and both of her grandmothers. She was amused to see that HJ got a small stack of valentines; some of the girls thought he was cute. Daria got several herself; she was secretly pleased, but she didn't know what to make of them.

Daria had several strange dreams a few nights later. She dreamt that she was much older and standing at the edge of a cold forest, holding a wand. There was danger around, which was why she had her wand out and was wary. There was also something about Massachusetts that she didn't remember. She woke up feeling puzzled and frightened.

Her dreams bothered her enough that she wanted to talk about it to somebody. She didn't want to talk about it with Jillian; Jillian was already convinced that she was a witch and wanted Mom to start putting in pre-magic school activities as soon as school ended in June. Daria didn't think that she was a witch, but maybe "Mundies" sometimes had strange dreams, too. She decided to mention it to Mrs. Kettler when she came by. Unfortunately Mrs. Kettler didn't stop by that month and the older case worker who came in her place only listened to her talk about her dreams, patted her on the head, and said that it was probably nothing and that she shouldn't worry about it.

Daria celebrated her birthday a week later and Helen took a break from work and drove them down to San Antonio. They spent the morning visiting the Alamo and the Riverwalk, then the early afternoon watching a movie at a mall before returning home to Ruskin.

The weather began to warm and the Morgendorffers accepted that regardless of what the calendar might say, winter was over and spring had started. Harry had spent the last part of March feeling frustrated that he wasn't officially allowed to cross the street, despite the fact that the older boys on the next block played serious games of catch using baseballs and fielders' mitts. Aunt Helen and Uncle Jake finally relented in April, and after some instruction from Uncle Jake, HJ was allowed to cross the street.

 _Finally_ , thought HJ. _Maybe this time I'll get to play some ball._ Now that he could cross the street on his own, he told himself that he was going to look up those kids he'd seen playing catch.

It was late-morning Saturday and HJ decided to try his luck. He carefully crossed the street and made his way down to the house where he'd seen the ball players. He hoped they'd be there, and was relieved to see that they were. They were out in front of what HJ supposed was one of the guys' house throwing a baseball to each other and trying to catch it.

They were all older than he was. No surprise there; HJ had been watching them for months.

"Hi," said HJ. "I'm HJ. I live down the street."

One of the older boys, a tall, red-haired boy with freckles, said "Hi" back at him. He looked at HJ and his fielder's mitt with amusement. "I'm Rusty," he said. He was clearly the leader. He must have been twelve.

"Nice mitt," said Rusty. "Do you just carry it around or do you think you can actually use it?"

"I can use it," said HJ, looking Rusty in the eye.

"This is Jerry," said Rusty, gesturing to a brown-haired boy wearing a Texas State tee-shirt. Jerry picked up the hard-ball they'd been throwing around and smirked at HJ. "Think you can catch it, kid?" he asked.

Jerry first lobbed a ball at the new kid and wasn't surprised to see him catch it. The kid threw it back, although Rusty thought his throw was weak. As a reminder to the new kid that he was playing with the big boys, he sent a curve ball at Travis, who caught it. Travis and Jerry smirked at each other. Time to see what the little wanna-be was made of.

Travis threw a fast-ball at the kid and he almost caught it. If the kid had raised his mitt just a little higher and closed it a little sooner, he would have gotten it. Still, he was impressed.

"He's not bad," said Travis. "He can keep up, even if he does throw like a girl." HJ glared at him from behind his glasses. The three boys spent the next half-hour playing catch with HJ. HJ already knew that Travis could throw a mean ball, but he soon learned that Rusty was almost as good.

The boys got together for a couple of subsequent Saturday s, then Rusty invited HJ over for something special.

Rusty, Travis, and Jerry decided that they not only wanted a little batting practice but that they were also curious to see if HJ could catch their balls when they were batted at him. They invited HJ to come over to the empty Middle School baseball field one Sunday morning to see what the kid could do. Rusty was the pitcher, Travis the catcher, Jerry was the batter, and HJ the general fielder. After HJ caught a line drive, a couple of pop flies and made fast work of a grounder, Rusty gestured him over.

"See if you can catch this one, kid," said Jerry, winking at Rusty. Rusty threw a ball in the zone, Jerry hit it, and the ball went flying high over the field. The three older boys turned to watch HJ and see if HJ could catch it. The ball came down towards HJ. Rusty wasn't sure HJ could catch it. HJ was only a first-grader and kids Rusty's age often had a hard time catching fly balls. No shame if the kid dropped it. But HJ was watching the ball drop down on him like a hawk. To Rusty's surprise, the kid was right where he was supposed to be, his glove open. The ball practically landing in his fielder's glove, and he caught it.

"Damn," said Jerry.

"The kid's a bird-dog," Travis said admiringly.

"Yeah," said Jerry. "We ought to call him that."

"We ought to," said Rusty. "Bird Dog Morgendorffer."

"You know, Little League try-outs are next Saturday," he said. "You ought to be there. I think you're good enough to make the team."

Harry Potter Morgendorffer* Harry Potter Morgendorffer* Harry Potter Morgendorffer

Author's note: The toy wand was borrowed from another writer, who used it for a "magical Dudley" story. I tried to track him or her down to ask permission, but without success. Whoever you are, wherever you are, thank you very much for your idea. I had fun playing with it.


	17. Chapter 17

Author's disclaimer: Daria is the creation of Glenn Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. Harry Potter is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling and Warner Brothers. I own neither, and neither expect nor deserve financial compensation for this story. I am writing for my own amusement and for ego gratification.

Gratify me: write a nice review

Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer

Harry Potter Morgendorffer Staying In Touch

The phone rang early one evening in mid-March. Daria picked it up, thinking that it was probably for Mom or Dad and work-related. It wasn't. Instead it was some lady Daria didn't remember talking to. She sounded British.

"Morgendorffer residence," said Daria.

"Could I speak to Helen Morgendorffer, please?" said the voice.

"Can I ask who's calling?" said Daria. She wasn't about to waste her Mom's time on junk phone calls.

"This is Petunia Dursley. I'm her cousin," said the woman on the other end of the phone.

"This is her daughter Daria," said Daria. "I'll go get her."

"Ah, Daria, we've met. I remember you being such a lovely baby," said the woman on the other end of the phone. "And how are you doing these days?" Daria then remembered that she did have a cousin Petunia. She knew that Cousin Petunia had come over to Texas once, but didn't remember much about her visit. She also didn't like being reminded about how cute she was as a baby. She was seven years old, darn it.

"Pretty well," said Daria. There was something about her tone of voice that irritated her. It wasn't just this Petunia woman's condescension.

She went into the living room and to tell her Mom that she had a phone call. "Mom, there's a lady on the phone that says she's Aunt Petunia and that she wants to talk to you," said Daria.

Her Mom rose from the couch where she'd been reading some legal documents and walked to the wall phone. She told herself that she was going to get one of those cordless phones when they came on the market.

"Helloooo," she said. "This is Helen Morgendorffer. Can I ask who's calling please?"

"Ah, Petunia. And how are you?" said Helen.

"Well, I wasn't sure it _was_ you. We don't speak very often."

"How is Vernon and your little boy?"

"I'm glad to hear that your checkup went well. Any problems?"

Good, good," she said.

"So the doctor wants to know about any inheritable medical conditions on my side of the family? Let me think." Helen paused for a moment. "Nothing major like diabetes, although Father died early from a stroke."

"Petunia, this is _not_ a competition. We're sharing medical information."

"Petunia, I don't believe that either of my daughters are witches. I'm sure that if Daria was magical like HJ, she would come forward and tell me. Besides, you're not, I'm not, Rita's not, and I don't think Amy is either."

"Now is this phone call about witchcraft or about inherited diseases?"

Jake looked up from his paper at his wife. He recognized Helen's tone of voice. It was a tone he'd heard Helen use not long before she and her sister Rita started fighting over the phone. Daria also recognized her Mom's tone of voice and wondered if she was going to get mad.

"Good, let's return to the original topic," said Helen. "To answer your question, the only inheritable medical condition I know of from my father's side of the family is a tendency towards hyper-tension and the risk of heart attacks or strokes when they reach middle age. The risks can be reduced through diet, exercise, and by weight reduction."

"My family _does_ exercise. HJ and the girls take PE in school, Jake golfs, and I've started power-walking," said Helen.

"HJ's in Little League," she added.

"That's for baseball," said Helen. "It's a sport that's popular here in the US, a lot of the western hemisphere, and in Japan."

"I don't have just _one_ daughter, I have _two_ daughters now," said Helen. "Quinn was born four years ago."

"Well, I can't tell you what your family's risks are because we've never seen pictures of your family," said Helen. "You looked healthy enough the one time I saw you, but I can't tell you anything about Vernon's health background, and I haven't a clue as to what little Dudley looks like."

"On the contrary," said Helen. "I've helped you as best I can with the information I have available. You and your doctor will have to make do with the information I've just given you."

"Is that all?" said Helen.

"Well, it was a pleasure talking to you, too," said Helen in the voice Daria knew her Mom used for people she didn't like.

"Goodbye," said Helen, and hung up. She sat down and resumed reading her documents. She thought of Amy's quip about some of the less-pleasant relatives they'd met at family re-unions. "Distant cousins," said Amy. "The more distant they are, the better I like it."


	18. Chapter 18

Harry Potter Morgendorffer Helen's Announcement

Disclaimer: Daria is the creation of Glenn Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. Harry Potter and its characters are the creation of JK Rowling and are the property of JK Rowling and Warner Brothers. I own neither and neither expect nor deserve financial compensation for this fiction. I am writing for my own amusement and ego gratification.

Speaking of ego gratification, positive reviews are nice. Why not write one and post it?

Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer

It was one of those morning commutes. Helen Morgendorffer had driven in from the southwest and had been caught up in a traffic jam on Interstate Highway-35. A pickup truck had rear-ended a passenger sedan just south of Slaughter Lane and a passenger in the sedan had to be extracted by EMS. Traffic stayed stalled for twenty minutes. Traffic did resume moving after that, but only at a crawl. Flustered, irritated, Helen told herself that if that was her biggest event out of the ordinary, she'd count it as a good day. Arriving in downtown Austin, she parked her car in its usual spot in the parking garage, then walked over to the bank building on Congress Avenue. She walked into her office mentally composed from the walk.

"Hi, Janey," said Helen. "Any messages?"

"Helen, Mr. Bloodworth wants to see you," said her assistant.

"Did he say what it was about?" asked Helen.

"He didn't say," said Janey. "It didn't sound critical, but it sounded important."

"Thank you, Janey," said Helen.

Helen took the elevator down the executive suites. Unlike humans, Goblins _liked_ having their offices underground. The further down you were, the more status you had.

Helen announced herself to the receptionist and sat down to wait. Mr. Bloodworth's receptionist was a Goblin, not a human. Ms. Mourning Knife had her hair pulled back and tied in a bun. Office gossip said that like many of the young humans around Austin, Texas, Ms. Mourning Knife had caught the music bug. Rumor also had it that she had a lovely singing voice. But despite any talent she might possess, Ms. Mourning Knife was never likely to go live on a No-Maj stage, even if she were lucky to win a contract as a back-up vocalist somewhere. Helen thought that was a pity.

Helen didn't have to wait long; one of Mr. Bloodworth's assistants came out of his office and then showed her in.

"Good morning, sir," said Helen. "I understand that you wanted to see me." Goblins, like humans, had also used large desks and tall executive chairs to show their status and importance, and Mr. Bloodworth had a large desk and a tall chair to show his. Helen looked at Mr. Bloodworth and tried to guess what he was thinking. It had been difficult, but shehad gradually learned to read Goblins' expressions over the past few years. By his posture and facial expression, Mr. Bloodworth looked pleased with himself.

"Gringotts is having a conference in London and we'd like you to present a seminar," he said.

"Me?" Helen said incredulously.

"You, Helen," said Bloodworth. "Over the last five years you've been working for Gringotts of Texas you have demonstrated that it is possible for your kind and ours to work together in a business setting. We would like you to travel to London and present a seminar at a weekend business conference."

"I'm honored," she said. "I'll be happy to go."

"When is it?" she asked.

"It's in three weeks," said Mr. Bloodworth.

"Can I talk to my husband first?" asked Helen.

"Certainly," said Mr. Bloodworth, although Helen could tell by his undertone that she had better be at the conference and not let Jake Morgendorffer get in the way.

Helen called her husband to see if the invitation would interrupt any of Jake's plans. After a brief discussion, she was relieved to learn that despite Bloodworth's relatively precipitous invitation, Jake could hold the fort with the children while Helen went to the Goblins' confab.

They got together in private that evening after the kids had retired to discuss Helen's upcoming business trip and to iron out details on the home front. Jake would stay behind and drive the children to and from school, then pick them up at the end of the school day. The idea of Helen going on a business trip didn't bother Jake so much as who her employers were. Goblins made Jake uncomfortable for a number of reasons, starting off with their teeth, claws, and attitudes; Helen's Goblin co-workers weren't particularly friendly and most tended to be dismissive. On the other hand, one of Helen's human magical co-workers did point out one of the Goblins' redeeming qualities: if there was sexual harassment, Goblins preferred to hit on their own kind, not human females.

"One more thing," said Helen. "I'd like to take HJ with me."

"Why?" said Jake.

Helen looked fondly at her husband and smiled. Sometimes Jake could be so obtuse.

"Jake, we've been getting the run-around about HJ's trusts for years and I'm tired of it. Gringott's main branch says that I have to talk to the Potter estate's solicitors and the solicitors say I have to talk to Gringott's. I've also been told to look up HJ's magical guardian. I'm tired of the back-and-forth. It's time to go to the main branch and start kicking up a fuss. As long as I'm there I'll start raising a ruckus."

-(((O-O)))-

The next morning, Helen started to make her arrangements for the trip. She began by reviewing her travel documents first. Everything was in order. Helen had kept her travel documents up-to-date since she and Jake had adopted HJ. For that matter, HJ's documents were also ready to go. She and Jake had occasionally talked about traveling abroad and they'd even once taken a cruise out of Galveston on a budget cruise line. She'd made sure that not only the girls had their own passports, but also that HJ had a valid British passport, even if his said that he was Harry James Potter, which in fact he was.

Helen first wanted to talk to HJ in private. She caught him while he was patrolling the perimeter of the back yard to see if he or the girls had left any toys in the grass. The yard man was supposed to come by the next day; he was a little slow and HJ and the girls had learned the hard way that their toys usually took a beating after they'd been run over with a lawnmower or trimmed by a hedger.

"We need to talk, young man," said Helen.

"OK," said HJ, wondering if Helen had found out about one of his school pranks.

"I want you to know that I'm going to be making a business trip to Britain three weekends from now," said Helen. "If you have any plans, I want you to clear your calendar."

"So how long are you going to be in Britain?" asked HJ.

"It's not just me," said Helen. "You're coming, too."

"Me?" HJ said incredulously.

"Both of us, young man," said Helen.

"How long are we going to be gone?" said HJ.

"The weekend and a couple of days afterwards," said Helen. "There's some business over there we need to take care of."

"What's it about?" asked HJ. He'd learned that getting answers concerning Helen's work was hit-or-miss, usually miss. The Goblins tended to be private about bank business and Helen had caught a lot of their attitudes. More often than not, answers weren't forthcoming.

"There's some questions about James and Lily's estate and what you inherited from them that I want answered, and I've learned that not only can I not get any answers from over here, you're going to come along to help," said Helen.

Visions of playing tourist in London appeared in HJ's head and just as swiftly evaporated. He suspected that he was going to be spending a lot of time in hotel rooms and boring offices.

"One other thing," said Helen. "Don't mention this trip to the girls. We'll discuss it at a family meeting."

HJ didn't need a tarot deck or a crystal ball to guess what was likely to happen _. Quinn is going to pitch a fit_ , he thought.


	19. Chapter 19

Harry Potter Morgendorffer Harry's Preparations

Disclaimer: Daria is the creation of Glenn Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. Harry Potter and its characters are the creation of JK Rowling and are the property of JK Rowling and Warner Brothers. I own neither and neither expect nor deserve financial compensation for this fiction. I am writing for my own amusement and ego gratification.

Speaking of ego gratification, positive reviews are nice. Why not write one and post it?

Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer

Harry wasn't mistaken. Quinn pitched a fit when she learned that she wasn't going to Britain.

"HJ's going to England and I can't?!" cried Quinn. "Why can't I come?"

"Because this is a business trip, not a vacation," said Helen, glaring at her younger daughter.

"Well, make him stay!" said Quinn. "Take me instead!"

"Why?" said Helen irritably.

"Because he's stupid and because he's a guy!" said Quinn.

 _Yep, about what I expected_ , thought HJ. He looked at Daria and rolled his eyes.

"And that's enough reason for you to go instead of HJ?" Daria said sardonically.

"Yeah!" said Quinn. "I ought to go! Just because his real parents were stupid enough to get themselves killed."

HJ could handle most of Quinn's stuff, but there were certain topics…

"SHUT UP!" he said. "My Mom and Dad were murdered! They didn't deserve to die!" The lights flickered. Helen's laptop's screen froze, then it began to reboot.

"But!" Quinn began.

"QUINN, SHUT UP!" said Helen. 'THAT WAS UTTERLY UNCALLED FOR!"

Quinn's eyes widened. Mom seldom yelled and even more seldom lost her temper.

"But," said Quinn.

"NOT ANOTHER WORD!" said Helen. "You're out of line," she added in a lower tone of voice.

"Dad!" said Quinn, appealing to the other parent.

"NO!" said Jake, raising his voice, and slapping the table with his palm for emphasis. "Your Mom's right. You're out of line!"

"Daria!" said Quinn, in a tone of voice that said that she expected her big sister to be on her side.

"Unh-unh," Daria said coldly. "You're wrong, and I'm not helping!"

"HJ's coming with me," said Helen in a tone of finality. "You're staying here. And you're grounded for a week. After you do some corner time."

"But Mom!" said Quinn.

"Two weeks," said Helen. "Want to go for three?"

Quinn shook her head.

Dinner that evening was frozen lasagna. Mom had experimented with frozen Mexican food a couple of times either when one of Dad's recipes didn't work out or when she hadn't had time to prepare and serve a proper dinner, but it just wasn't the same as the real thing.

The atmosphere at the table was almost as chilly as the lasagna had been before it went in the microwave. Quinn had been furloughed from her stint in the corner for dinner. She wasn't talking and made angry glares at the rest of the family from behind her plate.

Helen noticed that Quinn hadn't eaten for a while.

"Have you finished eating?" she said.

"I'm not hungry," said Quinn.

"Good," said Helen. "You can go back to the corner."

After dinner, HJ and Daria cleared the table, washed the oven sheets, rinsed the plates and loaded the dishwasher. They then went upstairs.

Daria knocked on HJ's door a little later. Harry put down his homework and said "Come in."

"So you're off to Britain on a business trip," said Daria.

"It looks that way," said HJ.

"You're growing up fast, young man," said Daria. "You're not even nine and you're already off on your first business trip."

"What can I say?" said HJ. "Some people have all the luck."

"Is Mom going to make you wear a jacket and tie?" said Daria.

"I don't think so," said HJ. "Besides, it was a little tight the last time I tried it on."

"Maybe she'll make up for it by having you wear wizarding robes," said Daria. "You're Lord Potter, so you're going to have to dress to impress."

"Oh, Goody," said HJ. "Fancy threads to get caught in revolving and sliding glass doors."

"You might want to check the weather over there," said Daria. "It's November and it's colder over there than it is in Ruskin."

"Where do I start?" said HJ.

"Look up the weather reports in the newspapers," said Daria. "Also a couple of the on-line servers list the weather for various places."

He thought of going downstairs and asking Mom about what he should wear to Britain but decided against it. Quinn was still in the corner and besides, he and Mom weren't leaving for a couple of more weeks.

Still curious about what he should pack, he asked Mom what he should pack, despite the fact that he wasn't leaving for two weeks.

"Warm clothes," said Helen. "Trousers, a sweater or a pull-over, long-sleeved shirts. Also, a jacket and rain gear; it rains more over there than it does over here. Don't even think about shorts."

"Which reminds me. I have to make an appointment at the hair salon. I'll set it up for after school."

-(((O-O)))-

HJ missed the hint. A couple of weeks later he found himself accompanying Helen to the hair salon.

Helen greeted the receptionist and took a seat.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Morgendorffer," said the receptionist, whose name was Daisy. "Here for your appointment?"

"I not only want my hair styled, but I want his hair colored and high-lighted," said Helen, gesturing at HJ.

"Whose?" said the receptionist.

"His," said Helen, gesturing at HJ.

 _What?_ HJ wasn't expecting _this_.

HJ wasn't a hair salon guy. He did wear his hair a little long, but he was just as happy to go to a discount barber's when he needed it trimmed. So far as he knew, most guys at J. Frank Dobie did the same thing. A couple of guys _had_ dyed their hair. Most of them had done it around Halloween although a couple of them hadn't. HJ thought of the latter as—weird.

"Uh, Mom," said HJ. "Why?"

"I want to change your look just before we get over there," said Helen. "Different hair color and glasses would help."

HJ knew that Lynette did his Mom's hair. He'd met her before and liked her. If he _had_ to have his hair styled, he could take it from Lynette.

"Mary Sue is going to be styling your hair."

HJ swallowed a groan. Mary Sue was a heavy-set woman with dyed pink hair who tried to show as much skin as she could.

Mary Sue greeted him with an enthusiastic smile.

"So you're HJ," she said with a big smile. "I'll be doing you."

 _Oh, Gawd_ , thought HJ.

"Let's get started," said Mary Sue. "I'm going to wash your hair first, then we'll start coloring it."

She leaned over him as she reached for the spray hose. "You're gonna be a real lady-killer when I get done with you," said Mary Sue. _Way too close_ , he thought, as Mary Sue's blouse pressed against his face, _way too much perfume_.

Lynette stole a glance at Helen's boy HJ while Mary Sue styled his hair. The phrase that came to mind was _"unhappy camper."_

Lynette was rght-on about HJ's mind-set. _If any of the guys from school come in and see me_ , thought HJ, _I'm_ never _going to live this down_.

He scowled as Mary Sue shampooed his hair, then tried to go for a neutral expression as Mary Sue started dying his hair. _Now I know how the Paynters' poodle feels when they take her in for her session at the dog-grooming place_ , he thought grimly.

Another client came in and took a seat at Doreen's station. _Oh, Hell_ , thought HJ _, that's Lisa Ann_. Lisa Ann was Paul's older sister. He sat sullenly and let Doreen put tinfoil on his hair and start giving him blond highlights. He hoped Lisa Ann didn't recognize him.

-(((O-O)))-

When the day of departure came around, HJ was ready. Sporting his new cap and his hard-shell suitcase, he helped Dad load his and Mom's stuff into the SUV, Dad then drove him and Helen to Ruskin's public floo terminal.

"Hold the fort, Sweetie!" said Helen, kissing her husband goodbye.

"Have a good trip, Honey," said Jake.

"Be safe!" said Jake. HJ couldn't tell if he was talking to Helen or him. Jake opened the rear door, unloaded their suitcases, kissed Helen one more time, then got in the car and drove away.

Helen and HJ gripped their suitcases and together walked through the doors which concealed the floo terminal's large fireplace.

Unlike game day for the Longhorns or big nights at Billy Bob's in Fort Worth, there wasn't much of a crowd this time of day. In fact, there wasn't even a line.

"You know what to say," said Helen.

"Yes, Mom," said HJ, rolling his eyes.

 _Here goes_ , thought HJ, as he stepped into the fireplace with his suitcase. He picked up a handful of floo powder and said "JFK OUTBOUND!"

One moment he was in Ruskin, the next moment he found himself sliding out a fireplace and realized that he was now someplace else. He was helped to his feet by a pair of strong hands. They belonged to an older woman wearing a MACUSA Transport Services vest and an Eastern Air Lines pin.

"Welcome to New York," she said. "Grab hold of your suitcase and clear the fireplace for the next customer."

"C'mon, there's inbound traffic right behind you."

-(((O-O)))—

Back when I first started writing Harry Potter fanfiction, I supposed that some of the busiest public floo terminals had people who functioned much like airline gate agents, helping to guide people to floos and occasionally assisting them with directions so they'd get to their proper destinations. I also supposed that MACUSA's floo network would be more than willing to hire former gate agents who were already familiar with this sort of work who'd performed similar jobs in the Muggle world.


	20. Helen Flies In

Harry Potter Morgendorffer: Helen Flies In

Daria, its characters, and situations are the creation of Glenn Eichler and are the property of MTV Viacom. Harry Potter, its character, and situations are the property of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling and Warner Brothers. I do not own them or claim to own them, so I neither deserve nor expect financial compensation for my work. I am writing for my own amusement and ego gratification.

Gratify my ego: if you like this, write a positive review!

Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer

Aunt Helen came out of a public fireplace shortly afterwards. She stood up, grabbed her suitcase, then took HJ by his arm and guided him to the door for departing clients wishing to take a shuttle bus to JFK airport. They entered the terminal, got in line at the ticket counter and got their tickets, then checked in their suitcases. After passing through security, she guided HJ to an empty bank of seats and sat him down.

"HJ, it's time to talk," she said. "I messed up. I should have told you more about what we'll be doing before we left, but I didn't plan ahead."

"As you know, your parents left you money and property in their will," said Helen. "I don't know just how much they left you, but I suspect it's more than chicken-feed." HJ suspected that Aunt Helen was also trying to tell him something else, but he didn't know what.

"OK," said HJ, as much to buy breathing-space as to acknowledge what Aunt Helen was telling him.

HJ knew _some_ things about his parents. He knew that his real Mom had been born to working class No-Maj parents in Britain. He knew that his father had been an Auror, which he'd learned was something like a magical cop. He'd heard that his grandfather had been some sort of inventor. It sounded like he'd have more money than the kid of a lawman killed on the job. He wondered just how much money.

"Jake and I have been trying for years to get some sort of financial statement from the bank, from the British government, or from your parents' lawyers about the size and shape of your parents' estate and we've been getting ignored, put off, or given the run-around. After more research, I've come to the conclusion that we are _**both**_ going to have to go over and start getting real answers."

"My last discussion with Mr. Bloodworth and some of the senior executives convinced me that I'm going to need you with me when I start rapping on counters, asking questions, and demanding answers." HJ didn't doubt that Aunt Helen could raise Hell, but he wasn't sure of what he could do. He hadn't even graduated from third grade.

"so when are we going to.." began HJ.

"Not until after the conference," his great great aunt replied.

"So what do we do in the meantime?" asked HJ.

"Our flight doesn't leave for an hour and a half," said Helen. "Let's get something while we're here."

"Sure," said HJ. Finances had been tight until a couple of years ago, but then Helen and Jake relaxed a little. They didn't let him and his cousins have a lot of money, but he got a bigger allowance and more expensive presents than they did when he was younger. They wandered into a souvenir shop. A display of baseball caps drew his attention the way magnets drew iron filings. One of the caps was for the New York Yankees. HJ tried it on, ignoring the glare of a nearby sales clerk. His face lit up in a big wide grin.

"Cool!" he said.

"Like it?" said Helen.

"Yeah," said HJ. The Yankees were a major league baseball team. Now he looked _really_ cool.

"Let's get it!" said Helen.

Helen paid for HJ's cap at the cash register. That wasn't all she bought; Helen also bought some postcards and a couple of small souvenirs for Daria and Quinn. As they walked down the concourse to the departure gate, she snatched the cap she'd bought him just before they left Ruskin off his head, then threw it in the nearest trash can..

"Put on your new one," she told HJ.

 _This was weird_ , thought HJ, but he did it anyway.

They then walked over to the area near their flight's departure gate and sat down. Aunt Helen opened her briefcase, pulled out some papers, and began studying them.

HJ wasn't used to the waiting part.

"So what do I do?" asked HJ.

"Well, you do have your carry-on, don't you?" asked Helen.

"Yes," HJ replied.

"And you did pack your school assignments," said Helen.

HJ made a face. _I should have put those in my suitcase_ , he thought.

"Yes," HJ said reluctantly.

"You might as well get started," said Helen. "You might get some time to play tourist once we get to Britain and you don't want to have your assignments hanging over your head."

HJ grimaced and reluctantly pulled out the mailing envelope with his math assignments and began to start solving the math problems his teacher gave him for homework. "I'm going on a trip and I'm doing homework," he grumbled.

Helen was unsympathetic. "That's the way it's going to be for the rest of your days," she said. "Welcome to your life."

-(((O-O)))—

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,  
Scottish Highlands

Albus Dumbledore's devices went active. Harry Potter was on the move.

His instruments showed that Harry Potter had not only left the area around Ruskin and the eastern edge of the Texas Hill Country, but that he'd shifted a considerable distance north and east, either by floo or apparition.

 _What in Merlin's name was going on_ , he wondered. Had the Death Eaters learned where he'd placed the Boy Who Lived? He hoped not.

He hoped it was just a trip. The Morgendorffers did travel, just not very much. Thus far his devices had traced the Boy Who Lived's movements within Texas, down to the Yucatan Peninsula and back once ,(which turned out to be a Muggle cruise), then over to Virginia where Helen and HJ both had family. This, however, was north and east of most of the boy's previous travels. New York, he guessed, but what were the boy and his great great aunt doing there?

About two hours later Dumbledore's devices went active again. Harry Potter was again on the move. He didn't know just how, but the young wizard was moving towards Great Britain, howbeit not towards Hogwarts.

His devices indicated velocity, too fast to be travel by broom, far and away too slow to be apparation. The Boy Who Lived must be on an airplane. He decided not to try to apparate aboard; Apparating on an airline was tricky and dangerous. He decided to wait until they were on the ground. Apparating onto a moving airliner could be done, but it was tricky and dangerous. He wasn't about to do it for any reason short of dire necessity.

Seven hours later, his devices changed position, and Professor Dumbledore realized that Harry Potter and his guardian were now in Britain.

-(((O-O)))-

After reclaiming their luggage and clearing customs, Helen and HJ took a taxi into London and drove to a business hotel just beyond casual walking distance of where Helen had learned Diagon Alley must be. They checked into the hotel under the name of Morgendorffer. HJ was still in a state of shock being in London and was uncharacteristically quiet as Helen told the bellman where he should place her and HJ's luggage. Going through customs and immigrations and hearing people talk with British accents was way different from the American accents he'd grown up with and the Texas accent he now possessed.

 _I came from here_ , he thought. He knew it was true, but he hadn't felt like it was home. He did recover enough to say "What now, Mom?" once they appeared to be settled in.

"Before we do anything else, I have a couple of phone calls to make," said Helen.

The first call Helen made was to Gringott's Main Branch's answering service. Gringotts had come to realize that since not all of their human employees were part of the magical world, they might have difficulty gaining ready access to magical means of communication like owls or the floo. She supposed Mr. Bloodworth and Mr. Speedicutt were already in Britain and were already networking with their fellow goblins, but the least she could do was let her bosses know that she'd safely arrived in Britain.

She left a message, then hung up with satisfaction. They knew now that she'd safely arrived in Britain.

Her second call was to a number she'd had in her address book, but had left untouched for years on end. She listened to the double-beep ring tone the Brits favored instead of the single ring that she'd grown up with.

She didn't have to wait long. Someone picked up the receiver at the other end, and a male voice said "Yes?"

-(((O-O)))—

"Hello? Is this the Dursley residence?" said a female voice. _American, by her accent_ , thought Vernon Dursley, holding the receiver.

"Yes," Vernon answered shortly. He wondered what it was about. He had an unpleasant suspicion, but Grunnings had also been trying to expand into the North American market, so maybe it was one of their people and not who he feared it might be.

"You must be Vernon," said the voice. "I'm Helen Morgendorffer, I'm Petunia's great-aunt."

 _Damnation_ , thought Vernon. Helen Morgendorffer was one of the _last_ people he wanted to talk to. The only thing worse he could think of was Albus Dumbledore. He was so surprised that for once he was caught without a ready reply.

What happened next was even worse. "It's good to finally talk to you. I thought you'd like to know that your nephew Harry and I are in the London area for the next few days and I was wondering if we might want to get together for a family dinner," said Helen.

Helen was unable to see her in-law's scowl. Vernon did _not_ want to deal with his wife's dotty relatives. His brief encounters with his dead brother-in-law had been bad enough, but Petunia had said that the Americans were even worse. If they weren't freaks of nature, they made up for it by being nutters.

Vernon decided to put the decision in Petunia's hands.

"She's out," he said. "I'll tell her you called."

"Where are you staying?"

Vernon took down the American woman's hotel's name and telephone number. He was certain he could look it up later if he needed the physical address. He then hung up the phone.

"Who was calling, dear?" asked Petunia.

"Your great aunt," said Vernon. "She's over here with her freakish nephew."

"Harry?" said Petunia.

"Can't think of any other ones she's got," said Vernon. "You told me that aside from her children, the only other younger cousin is some girl named Erin. What do you suppose they're doing these days?"

"I don't know," said Petunia. "Whatever they're doing, I doubt it pays them much." She frowned. "I don't doubt that they're little more than beggars, living hand-to-mouth."

"What does Aunt Helen want?" she asked.

"She wants us to get together for a family meal," said Vernon.

Petunia looked thoughtful.

"You know, maybe we ought to have dinner with them," she said. "It might be good for Dudders to see what sort of scruffy people that nutter aunt and her children are."

"Should we call her back?" asked Vernon.

"Not yet," said Petunia. "We should wait. I heard you say that I was out and it will take me a while to get back."

Petunia and Vernon both chuckled at the thought.


	21. Helen versus Dumbledore Round One

Harry Potter Morgendorffer: Helen versus Dumbledore Round One

DISCLAIMER: Daria is the creation of Glen Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. Harry Potter is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling and Warner Brothers. I own neither, and neither expect nor deserve financial compensation for this work. I am writing for my own amusement and for ego gratification.

It would gratify this writer's ego greatly if you wrote a nice review.

Rated T for language. There are grown-ups talking.

Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer

Helen's telephone rang a couple of minutes later. It was the receptionist from downstairs.

"Mrs. Morgendorffer," she said, "there is an Alban Doubledoor here to see you."

There was a silent pause and Helen could here conversation in the background. "Albus Dumbledore," a male voice corrected.

It sounded like the old wizard. _So coming here drew him out of the woodwork_ , thought Helen. _If I rattled his cage, too bad_.

"Tell him I'll come down to the lobby in a couple of minutes and meet him there," Helen said to the receptionist.

She decided to take the staircase and walked down the stairs to the main floor.

Albus Dumbledore looked like he was dressed in a three-piece suit. _An illusion_ , Helen thought. Hogwarts was in session and she doubted that Dumbledore had had time to change. The Hogwarts headmaster was not happy to see her.

"Madam Morgendorffer, what _**are**_ you doing here?" he asked, tension in his voice.

"I'm here for a business conference," Helen replied with a thin smile. "Gringotts wants me to host a seminar on Goblin—Human interactions in the workplace and I agreed to chair the panel."

"And _**why**_ , for Merlin's sake, did you bring your nephew?"

"Because of questions concerning his parents' estate," said Helen, her eyes narrowing.

"Professor, for the last seven years I have been attempting to get some sort of grasp of my Great-great grand-nephew's financial affairs," said Helen. "I have not gotten any satisfactory answers. I have been ignored, put off, given the run-around and I am damn sick and tired of it."

"I have cared for the boy almost eight years. I take my responsibilities seriously, and I intend to see that he is provided for when he goes off to school and then when he moves out on his own. This much obstruction leads me to wonder just what is the state of his parents' estate and how well it has been managed, or _**mis**_ managed as the case may be."

"I have already begun to consult with lawyers back in the US about my legal options. I may well begin to see about legal options here in the UK."

Albus Dumbledore looked at the angry auburn-haired woman facing him. He could not afford this distraction. He had pressing business with the Wizengamut, placate Hogwarts' Board of Governors, and prepare for an upcoming international conference. He did not want a potential lawsuit on top of his other problems.

"So what do you want, Madam Morgendorffer?" he asked.

"I came here to gain control of my great-niece's and her husband's estate," she said.

"Madam, surely you realize that these matters can continue to be handled here in Britain by capable hands," he said.

He found himself facing Helen Morgendorffer's angry glare, an expression that was as formidable as those of some of the witches he'd dueled with during the Grindelwald War.

"Professor, I believe that my time working for Gringotts Southwest has taught me far more about estate planning and their management than what most wizards twice my age over here know. I also know where to go if I need to consult with the proper financial or legal advisors."

Professor Dumbledore began to be concerned. Madam Morgendorffer was not going to back down. Further, she had strong arguments in her favor if she chose to make her case known in public: she was not only an employee of Gringotts Southwest, but she also had legal custody of Harry Potter, her custody being confirmed both by both MACUSA and the American Muggle authorities.

. "Madam Morgendorffer, the _**last**_ thing we need is a public row," said Professor Dumbledore.

"I _**do**_ hope it's not necessary," said Helen. "Did I tell you that I met Linda Hecho of _Tex Arcana_ at a party once? She's quite a writer. She told me about some of the people who work for the _Prophet_."

"How do you wish to settle this, Madam?" he said.

"Quietly. At Gringotts. Monday evening," said Helen.

"Agreed," said Professor Dumbledore. "Until then, Madam." said Professor Dumbledore.

Professor Dumbledore left the lobby and went into the men's restroom. Helen heard a popping noise and then remembered that while Professor Dumbledore might have apparated back to Hogwarts, he might also have apparated into her hotel room and made off with Harry. She headed for the staircase and scurried upstairs.

To her relief, HJ was in their suite.

"HJ, good. You're all right," she said.

"Mom, what's wrong?" said HJ.

"I just went toe-to-toe with a wizard," said Helen. "You're going to have to stick close to me this weekend."

-(((O-O)))-

Helen thought that her seminar went well. She'd done a good job of relating of not only how she'd come to work for Gringotts Southwest, but also of stressing the point that humans working for Goblin businesses should show the courtesy of learning Goblin manners and customs.

Mr. Speedicutt, a Goblin panelist, related the difficulties he'd had introducing Helen to Goblin mores, gave Helen some credit for adapting, and then went off-track into an anecdote about Gringotts Southwest edging out a No-Maj Atlanta bank in acquiring the assets of a failed savings and loan.

The seminar ended, and the panelists stood up in their chairs. HJ had had to sit in the back, as did Straight-Edge, Speedicutt's son. They soon grew bored. Electronics didn't work that well at the site, so hand held-video games were out of the question. They did try to adapt, and played several rounds of a graph-paper version of _Battleship_. Edge won three out of five games and had just finished sinking the last of HJ's capital ships when his uncle caught him and made him stop. The erstwhile Admiral of the Ocean Sea had been removed from the conference room and HJ was reduced to reading a book to pass the time. He got up and walked over to Aunt Helen.

"A very interesting talk, Ma'am," said an earnest young wizard who'd been listening to Helen and the other panelists. Helen thought he looked very young; a kid who'd either just gotten out of high school or a freshman at college.

"And you are?" said Helen.

"William Weasley, Ma'am," he said with a smile. "Everybody calls me Bill."

"Hogwarts?" said Helen. He looked young enough. She didn't think that he'd had any schooling in business. Most of those were at least out of college.

"Yes, Ma'am, I've just graduated," he said. "I'll be starting as an apprentice curse-breaker."

One of the British Goblins had a brief conversation with Mr. Bloodworth in rapid Gobledygook, then said "Bravo, Madam. Tell me, did your family used to collect heads?"

Helen knew that the Goblin could well be serious. Fortunately, she'd suspected that she'd be fielding questions like these and remembered some of the less-savory heirlooms from her father's side of the family that she'd seen growing up in Virginia.

"Not for several centuries, Sir," she replied. "One of my father's ancestors did take scalps. I remember finding some of them when I was much younger."

HJ's eyes bulged. Aunt Helen had never told him that story.


	22. An Extraordinary Dinner

HJ Morgendorffer An Extraordinary Dinner

DISCLAIMER: Daria is the creation of Glen Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. Harry Potter is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling and Warner Brothers. I own neither property and neither expect nor deserve any financial compensation for this work. I am writing for my own amusement and for ego gratification.

Please gratify the writer. Write a nice, glowing review if you think he deserves it.

Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer

Helen and HJ left the conference site in a mixed company of Goblins and magical humans, along with one of the few hags that had not only discovered that being law-abiding paid better, but had somehow managed to become a successfully book keeper. The party began to break up as subgroups began to head for their separate destinations and Helen and HJ entered the small restaurant alone.

Helen had decided that she and HJ would try a French country restaurant situated off Diagon Alley that she'd heard of. To her disappointment, there was a large crowd there that evening. Crowds in wizarding Britain made Helen uncomfortable. She did not care to be noticed. She particularly didn't care to have HJ noticed. Some witch or wizard might see a woman dressed in Muggle fashion with a boy wearing a baseball cap to cover a scar on his forehead and make the right conclusion.

She began wondering if coming here was such a good idea after all. The waiting area wasn't that crowded, but everyone wishing to enter the restaurant had to pass through it. Dithering, she approached the maitre'd to ask for a table.

"Do you have any particular requests, Madam?" said the maitre'd.

"I'd like a table, someplace inconspicuous, preferably in the back," said Helen.

"You may have to wait for your table," said the maitre'd. "We're busy this evening. We do have a waiting area over there," he said, gesturing towards a couple of thickly-cushioned benches near the front door.

There was already someone seated in the waiting area: an older, elegantly-dressed wizard. He spotted Helen and HJ, his eyes rising briefly. He turned his attention back to the maitre'd.

"Sir," said the maitre'd, "your private room is almost ready. We'll send someone down after we've finished making the final arrangements."

The old wizard turned his head back towards Helen and HJ.

"Madam," said the old wizard, "would you and your young man care to dine with me this evening?"

Helen looked suspiciously at him. There were a lot of old-blood wizards with agendas.

The wizard smiled at her. "You have my word and the honor of my house that I have no evil intentions towards you or this man here," he said.

"Thank you," said Helen. She didn't know that much about the old-blood families of Britain, save that they could be extremely snobbish and that they often had disdain for No-Majs and wizards from No-Maj families.

A waiter came down a staircase over to the side and whispered something to the maitre'd.

Something told Helen that dining with this wizard would be safe.

"I accept," she said.

"Sir," said the maitre'd, "your room is ready."

"Please see to it that my table has two other settings," said the old wizard. "This lady and her young man will be joining me for dinner."

"Sir," said the Maitre'd, turning towards the staircase. The old wizard rose, and Helen and HJ fell in behind him.

"Allow me to introduce myself," he said to Helen. "I am Arcturus Black."

The older wizard watched with amusement as Helen ran down her mental rolodex and remembered that the Blacks were one of the foremost wizarding families in Britain.

The wizard said nothing further until the maitre'd led them to a table now set with three places.

"I hope everything will be satisfactory, Sir," said the maitre'D, who nodded, then bowed himself out. A waiter remained, nervously glancing at the old wizard.

"Please be seated," said the old wizard, gesturing to Helen and HJ.

"I'd like the wine list," he said to the waiter. The waiter left.

The wizard drew his wand and silently worked some sort of spell. Helen's hairs rose, but she wasn't certain what sort of spell the wizard had case.

"Now we have a bit of privacy," said the old wizard.

"I know who you are," he said, looking at HJ. "I'd heard gossip that a certain young man had returned to the magical world along with his mother, but I'd thought it was so much tosh until you came in through the door."

"No, I'm not Lily Evans," said Helen.

"I didn't think you were," said the mysterious old wizard.

"I am related to this young man, but I'd prefer not to give my surname," said Helen.

"I approve of your caution," said the old wizard. "Can I ask you your given name?"

"Call me Helen," said Helen, hoping that she didn't give out too much information.

"May I ask if you come from a magical family?" asked Arcturus Black.

"No," said Helen. "My family's been out of the wizarding game for at least two centuries. I do work for Gringotts Southwest, but that's not the same thing."

"I'm surprised that they hire Muggles," he said.

"Gringotts is a bank, and where there are banks, there is often money, and where there is money, there are often lawyers," said Helen. "And I'm a darn good lawyer, wand or no wand." She'd use that line before on incredulous wizards.

The old wizard chuckled. "I'd never thought of it that way," he said.

"How do you like working for goblins?" asked Arcturus.

"Different," said Helen. "They're bloodier-minded than some of the human law offices I interned for, but they respect me for my abilities, not because I look decorative. I like that."

"Is he?" asked Arcturus.

"He is," said Helen.

"What are you doing about his magic?" asked Arcturus, gesturing towards HJ.

"We may not be a magical household, but we are in touch with MACUSA," said Helen. "My husband and I are working with their social workers while he's staying at home. They also have programs where he can meet contemporaries who live in our area so he won't feel alone and unprepared when he goes off to school when the time comes. In the meantime, he goes to school with other children."

"A magical school?" asked Arcturus.

"No, a public school," said Helen. "Non-magical humans vastly outnumber non-magical humans, and I think it's best for Harry and my girls to know a little bit about the culture that surrounds them."

"Do you play Quidditch?" asked Lord Black, turning to Harry.

"I've done some, Sir" said Harry. Something instinctual told him to add the "Sir" part. "Chasing and some seeking, mostly. Right now, I'm more into baseball. I'm in Little League and I play outfield."

"You play with Muggles?" Lord Black asked incredulously.

"Yes, Sir," said Harry.

"Do any of them know?" asked Arcturus Black.

"No, sir. Aside from what Mrs. Kettler says about the Statutes, my Mom says what they don't know won't hurt them."

"Do you use your powers in this baseball?" asked Lord Black.

"No, sir," said HJ. Helen could see that HJ looked offended. "That's _cheating_. Baseball is a _sport_."

 _Not entirely naïve_ , thought the old wizard approvingly.

Helen started to feel strange, as if she was developing a a headache.

Something was in her head. She didn't think it was the old wizard. Something wanted to come out. Something wanted to come out _**bad**_. She wondered if she was under the influence of an Imperio curse but she doubted it. Despite the fact that Imperio curses were illegal, Gringotts Southwest had had training sessions where their employees had been Imperiod so they'd know what it felt like. In her case, she'd had to put on a funny hat, stand on top of a conference table, and sing nursery rhymes including a couple of naughty ones she'd composed at Middleton.

She stood up, a part of her mind frightened and surprised, then began speaking in a voice pitched much deeper than the one she ordinarily used,

The ancient house groans, its hearth growing cold  
It seed dragged under by unliving hands,  
Or set on a rock, despised by friends,  
scorned by enemies, left to rot by the master.

The house falls to ruin, its foundation gnawed  
By the rat fed by the heedless children and clueless sir.  
None caring to see how the twain really died  
Foregiveness may save the foundation stones.

HJ looked at his great-great aunt in alarm. "What did you do to my Mom?" HJ asked angrily.

"I did nothing to her," said Lord Black. "She is making a prophecy."

"Is she OK?" asked HJ.

"She should be all right," said Lord Black. "Give her a moment."

Helen came to herself and found herself standing up. "What just happened?" she said.

"You just made a prophecy," said Lord Black.

"Me?" said Helen. "I'm not a witch. I didn't think I could."

"What is your blood status, Madam?" he asked.

"We don't use those terms in the US, sir," said Helen, "although I have taken tests. MACUSA classified me as what they nickname a "wild squib." I can sense magic, I can see magical creatures, but I can't perform magic myself."

"You might wish to review your status again, Madam," said Arcturus. "You _definitely_ prophesied."

"For your information, you are partially right. Squibs generally lack the Sight and usually don't make prophecies. But on very rare occasions they do. You just did."

"Like does it mean anything?" asked HJ.

"That, lad, I do not know," said Arcturus. Actually, he knew that this Helen's prophecy had a great deal to do with the fortunes of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

"Madam, my compliments," said Lord Black. "You are a woman of hidden depths. I suggest we remain here for a while longer and have coffee and dessert."

They sat and had coffee and desert. Helen used the opportunity to collect herself. After her reassurance that she was all right, HJ somehow had the instinct to shift the topic to something neutral and started explaining the rules of baseball to the old wizard.

"Madam, may I ask if you remembered seeing or hearing anything else?" asked Lord Black.

"I remembered something about a creature and a locket," said Helen. "There was also something about a cup and a strange vault. I also had this vision of dozens of drowned bodies dragging a boy under water and keeping him under until he drowned."

Lord Black went very still, his face expressionless. _What did I just say_ , Helen worried frantically. She did not care to be hexed.

HJ looked at the old wizard. He knew a couple of old guys who got very still and quiet after something happened that they didn't like. That wasn't good. That meant that they were really hacked off.

Helen and HJ waited for what seemed like the better part of an hour, although it was only several minutes.

"Sir," Helen said quietly, breaking the silence. "I assume that you are a client of Gringott's Bank?"

"Of course," said Lord Black.

"Then I believe that what I've just said falls under the confidentiality policies of Gringotts and I am contractually bound not to discuss them with non-employees," said Helen.

"That means _you_ also keep _your_ lip zipped," said Helen to HJ.

"Yes, Mom," said HJ.

It took Arcturus a moment to recover. This Squib's behavior was quite atypical of what he was used to. _A woman lawyer_ , he thought with amusement. _And one that might have a gift for prophecy. One that gave him much to think about_. He found the combination incongruous.

"Madam, could you indulge my curiosity?" he asked. "What would happen if you prophesied in a Muggle court?"

"From what I've reviewed in my legal studies, spectral evidence has been disallowed in court since the mid-1700's," said Helen. "I suspect that the judge would either ask me to collect myself or order that whatever I said be either stricken from the record or that the jury should disregard it."

Arcturus Black smiled but said nothing. Helen wondered if he thought what she'd just said was funny.

Neither Helen, the old wizard, or HJ said much more. Helen did say that she did plan to play tourist for a day. She wanted to take HJ on a sight-seeing tour of London before they returned home. The waiter appeared, the bill on a tray.

"Well, this has been an eventful as well as an entertaining evening," said Lord Black. "I insist on paying for dinner."

"That's not necessary, Sir," said Helen. "I can—"

The old wizard politely cut her off. "Madam, here in wizarding Britain sometimes wizards and witches seek out noted seers and pay them hundreds of galleons for what they might see of the future." His lips twitched into a smirk. "I'd get your vision for the price of a couple of dinners. A bargain, wouldn't you say?"

 _Lord Black had a point_ , thought Helen. She'd let him pay for dinner.

Lord Black dug into his pocket, dropped several large coins onto the waiter's small tray, then rose.

"So where do you go from here, Madam?"

"We're going back to our hotel. It's on the other side of the wall, off Charing Cross Road," Helen replied.

"You know, I haven't been out on Charing Cross Road for years," said Lord Black. "Let me walk you at least part way there."


	23. Helen Visits The Solicitor

Harry Potter Morgendorffer: Helen Visits The Solicitor

 _Daria_ is the creation of Glenn Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. _Harry Potter_ is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling and Warner Brothers. I own neither, and neither expect nor deserve financial compensation for this story. I am writing for my own amusement and for ego gratification.

What if Minerva McGonagall had been able to persuade Professor McGonagall to place baby Harry Potter with different blood relatives instead of with Petunia Dursley and her husband: the Morgendorffers from MTV's _Daria_?

Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer

The next day was Sunday. The Goblins being Goblins, and most if not all of Gringott's human staff being pagans or non-believers, the Christian Sabbath was ignored. The conference formally ended on Sunday in mid-afternoon. Despite the fact that she was worn out from the conference, Helen and HJ did return to the hotel, changed, then caught a late-afternoon bus tour. It was well that the bus had a guide or HJ would have missed the significance of many of the sights; Helen dozed off several times. Despite her intention of using that evening to review her legal arguments for gaining control of HJ's estate, Helen was tired. She and HJ ate pub food for dinner, then Helen began to get ready for bed.

Her plans were interrupted by a telephone call from the front desk. Helen picked up the receiver and was told by the hotel's receptionist that she had a phone call from a Petunia Dursley and if she would like to accept it. Helen accepted the call, waved HJ over to the phone so he could say hello to his aunt. After attempting to get Helen to accept dinner on either Monday evening or Wednesday evening, Petunia grudgingly accepted Tuesday evening as a good time for the cousins to meet each other. They agreed on a place and a time in the City, and Helen hung up making good wishes and saying that she looked forward to seeing Petunia again. Despite her suspicion that this family reunion might be as bad as some of the family dinners she'd had with cousins in Virginia, she made it an early evening and went to bed.

On Monday morning, Helen rose early and began reviewing her notes and a brief she'd written demanding control of HJ's estate. Harry got up about an hour and a half later after she did. Despite the fact that he'd rested well and had gotten to watch a little television the previous evening, he was feeling a little cranky. The two of them ate a breakfast at the hotel's breakfast buffet.

After breakfast, Helen grabbed her briefcase and she and HJ made their way to Diagon Alley. The Leaky Cauldron had a morning crowd of sellers as well as vendors and a couple of noisy caged chickens ran unwitting interference as Helen and HJ made their way to the brick wall that blocked off Diagon Alley from the Muggle world.

Once past the archway behind the Leaky Cauldron, Helen began looking more closely at some of the smaller signs that graced some of the two- and three-story half-timbered buildings that lined Diagon Alley. Helen knew that the Potter family's solicitors were somewhere between Gringotts and the Leaky Cauldron, but wasn't sure of the exact location. She'd even done a little preliminary scouting on her way to the Goblin conference. Her search proved mercifully brief: the office of Case and Scales was located on the second floor above a shop on Diagon Alley that sold magical widgets.

The door to the second floor was not on the front but on the side. Helen opened it and she and HJ found themselves facing a steep staircase with narrow steps. Helen thought of some elderly or handicapped witch, wizard, or Goblin trying to climb the stairs and frowned. _This would get nixed by ADA in the States,_ she thought.

Someone had done a little remodeling; the entry to Case and Scales now featured a frosted glass door with the firm's name painted on it and a transom above the door. Since it was November, the transom was closed.

She opened the door. A bell tingled as she and HJ entered the office. She looked around the front room and saw that there were law books, parchments, and papers strewn all over the place. Helen gave it credit for looking like a very old-fashioned law office, but debits for there not being a clerk or receptionist out in front to greet potential clients

Helen waited for what she considered a decent time and then said "Hello? Is anyone there?"

"Coming, coming," said a male voice from a back room.

The solicitor came out to the front, an older man who looked to be about Helen's mother's age. From his looks, Helen guessed that he was a solicitor, not a secretary or a paralegal. He looked very Victorian, with a high-collared shirt, a plum waist-coat and an ascot around his neck instead of a necktie. "Good morning, Madam, I am Terrence Case. What can I do for you?" he said.

"Mr. Case, how do you do?" said Helen. "I'm Helen Barksdale Morgendorffer. I'm Harry Potter's legal guardian."

Mr. Chase looked at Helen skeptically. He'd gotten several letters from someone from Texas purporting to be The Boy Who Lived's guardian, but he didn't expected to ever deal with him or her himself. He didn't expect an impostor to come to his office, but wouldn't put it past a bold one to make an attempt.

"HJ, you can take off your lid," said Helen. HJ took off his baseball cap. _To make sure that the old geezer got the picture,_ he thought.

Mr. Case's eyes widened. "My word," he said. He stared for a while at HJ. "You _**are**_ Harry Potter."

He briefly turned his attention to Helen. "I didn't believe you at first, Madam, and I confess I gave little credence to those letters I'd gotten from Texas."

"Young Harry, I knew both of your parents while they were students at Hogwarts. I even met you once, before your mother and father went into hiding. You look so much like your father; although your eyes and nose look much like your mother's."

"Are you the Helen Barksdale Morgendorffer who works for Gringotts Southwest?" he asked.

"Yes," said Helen.

"I again apologize. I had thought that you were an impostor but I see that I was wrong."

"We can go to Gringotts if there is any remaining uncertainty," said Helen with a touch of tartness. Case was one of the people who'd given her the run-around.

To her satisfaction she saw that Mr. Case had the good grace to blush.

"I see a strong physical resemblance to Lily Potter," he said. "May I ask you what your relationship is to her?"

"I'm her great Aunt," said Helen.

"How is this possible?" asked Mr. Chase. "You aren't much older than Lily Potter would have been if she were still alive."

"My father had a brief affair with Lily's grandmother in 1939," said Helen. "Her daughter was Lily Evans' mother. My father married my mother in 1949. I was born in 1952."

Mr. Chase decided that the best course of action would be to put the cause for embarrassment behind them and then move on to business. "So what can we do for you, Madam?"

"I understand that you or your partners used to be the Potter family solicitors," said Helen.

"We were," said Mr. Case. "We handled the legal affairs for Fleamont Potter and then for James Potter until his death in 1981."

"What happened to the Potters' records?" asked Helen.

"Albus Dumbledore said that we were no longer working for the Potter estate and took custody of their legal records."

Helen scowled in strong disapproval.

 _More vapor trails_ , Helen thought angrily, _and the old wizard seems to be the guy making them_.

 _Well, Mr. Chase handled the Potters' affairs. If I can't get documents, I can find out what he knows._

"I know very little about the Potters, Mr. Chase," said Helen. "Professor Dumbledore has written me and told me a little about James and Lily, but I know very little about James' parents or his Potter aunts and uncles, if he has any. I'm sure that—Harry would also like to learn more about his parents and grandparents."

"Would you like that, Harry?" said Helen.

"Yeah," said Harry. The solicitor looked into Harry's eyes, saw so much of the boy's parents looking back at him, then gave in.

"Let's begin with your grandfather Fleamont," said Mr. Chase.

Helen learned that Fleamont Potter had been a wizard of independent means and a skilled potion-maker. He and his wife had had fertility problems and had only had James late. He was an only child.

Fleamont had developed a product called Sleekneeze, and after growing tired of the hassle and time-consumption of marketing it independently, had sold the formula to a wizarding hair-styling company.

"I'm going to have to see if I can get bottles of this stuff," said Helen. "I'd like to try this stuff myself and I know at least one of my daughters would be interested."

HJ tried to suppress a smirk and failed. He knew that while Quinn was wary of most wizarding products, she might bend the line on beauty products.

"I have read a couple of biographies of James and Lily Potter as well as accounts of the last days of the Wizarding War," said Helen. "One of the illustrations showed the cottage James and Lily were living in when they were murdered. Was that the main Potter mansion?"

"No," said Mr. Case. "That was a safe house. The main Potter mansion was about thirty miles distant."

"What is that house's status?" asked Helen. "Is it still owned by the Potter estate or has it been sold to someone else?"

"You know, I can't tell you," said Mr. Case.

"And that is because," Helen began quietly.

"As his magical legal guardian, Albus Dumbledore has custody of all the legal records," Mr. Chase finished for her.

 _This was too much_ , Helen thought. _It was time to start making a ruckus._ She knew that the Goblins still had the Potters' vaults at Gringotts and probably had the contents of those vaults, assuming everything was as legal and above-board as Professor Dumbledore would have her believe.

"You know, I practice law in the States for Gringotts Southwest," said Helen. "I'm bar-certifed not only for the No-Maj state and federal courts, but MACUSA's as well. In the course of my legal training, I've learned a thing or two about how property titles are registered and stored in the US and Canada. I'm sure it's different over here. Can you give me a run-down on how it's done here in magical Britain?"

Mr. Chase marveled at Madam Morgendorffer's surprising composure after having digested the news about the existence of the Potter mansion and grounds as well as her learning just how much she'd been left in the dark. HJ knew better, recognizing Mom's mood. He hoped that Mr. Chase was no legilimens; Mom was P.O'd. Nevertheless, Mr. Chase told her not only that such records were not only stored at Gringotts, but also at the Ministry. He also apologized and told just where in the Ministry such records were kept and how she could go about looking them up.

"One other thing, Mr. Chase," said Helen. "Back when you were managing James and Lily's financial affairs, you wouldn't know how many vaults they had at Gringotts, would you?"

"They had four, Madam," said Mr. Chase. "A trust vault for young Harry here, two Potter family vaults, and a separate vault for Lily Potter."

"I see," said Helen. She was going to take up the matter of the Potter vaults with Gringotts' senior management.

She made it a point to make a display of looking at her wrist watch to check the time.

"Oh, my," she said. "Time does fly. I'm afraid that we're going to have to get going."

"Mr. Chase, thank you very much for your time. This has been very illuminating. Harry and I have learned a lot, and I, for one, am so grateful for the chance to learn more about my great-niece and her husband."

"You're quite welcome, Madam," said Mr. Chase. "My pleasure."

He opened the door to his office and watched as Madam Morgendorffer and her charge went out the hall and down the stairs.

After he closed his office door and began working on those old records he had concerning that Rosier estate. Evan Rosier's estate was being sued for damages by some of his victims' survivors.

A stray thought came to him. Why was he thinking about sharks as he saw the back of Madam Morgendorffer heading for the staircase?


	24. Meet Minister Bagnold

Meet Minister Bagnold

 _Daria_ is the creation of Glenn Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. _Harry Potter_ is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling, Warner Brothers, and Wizarding World. I own neither, and neither expect nor deserve financial compensation for this story. I am writing for my own amusement and for ego gratification.

What if Minerva McGonagall had been able to persuade Professor McGonagall to place baby Harry Potter with different blood relatives instead of with Petunia Dursley and her husband: the Morgendorffers from MTV's _Daria_?

Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer

Back out on the street, Helen and HJ chose to spend their time on Diagon Alley admiring the buildings and people-watching. Helen thought that the architecture looked very old-fashioned and probably wouldn't last a week even in history-conscious Britain if they were placed outside this wizarding enclave. She passed a store selling magical pets, another one that sold owls, an apothecary, and Madam Malkin's. Helen had seen wizarding robes. She thought they were quaint but impractical, particularly in places like Texas where it was hot for so much for the year. Still, she had half a day to go shopping, and she decided she'd be wise to check her wallet. Helen stepped into a shop, one that sold cauldrons, and opened her handbag. She counted the wizarding coins, tried to make a ballpark guess of how much money she and HJ would be spending here and perhaps elsewhere in Britain, and frowned. She needed more cash. The local merchants didn't take VISA or Mastercard, and they didn't take American Express, either.

To Gringott's then. She walked up the steps with HJ following behind, greeting the goblin doorman by saying "May your days and gold be plentiful," and entered. A long line of goblin clerks were hard at work: writing in legers, examining precious stones, stacking gold coins, and calculating on abacuses. She wondered just what she was doing there when a goblin walked up to her and said "Madam Morgendorffer!"

"Sir," Helen said politely. It was an older goblin, and if the goblins didn't use No-Maj human terms like vice presidents or Comptroller, Helen was pretty sure that this goblin was near the top of Gringotts' hierarchy.

"Your appointment isn't until this evening," said the Goblin.

"I know, Sir," said Helen. "I need more cash and since most of the shops don't take pounds sterling or MACUSA wampum, I thought I'd better come in here and change some money."

She frowned. "Also, is either Mr. Bloodworth or Mr. Speedicutt here? Something happened last night that I'll need to report to Personnel." The Goblins balked at using the term human relations; they thought that it was anthropocentric. Helen thought they were right.

"Come with me then," said the older Goblin. He led them out of the lobby and over to a conference room. He stopped before the door.

"I'd prefer that the boy doesn't accompany us," said the Goblin.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but I'm not about to let him out of my sight just now," said Helen.

"Very well," said the Goblin. The three of them went inside the conference room. The Goblin waved his hand and the door closed.

"Describe the incident, please," said the Goblin.

Last night I went to a French country restaurant down the street," said Helen. "HJ and I ended up having dinner with an Arcturus Black, whom I believe is one of the more important wizards here in Britain as well as a major Gringotts client."

"I made a prophecy at dinner."

"Did you discuss bank business or bank policy with Lord Black?" asked the Goblin.

"Nothing beyond vague generalities, Sir," said Helen. "I told him that I was a lawyer working for Gringotts Southwest, hinted that I was not a magical person, and told him that I believed that the prophecy I gave at dinner could be construed to be confidential according to the terms of my contract with Gringotts Southwest, and that I wasn't going to spread around the contents."

"Are you a witch, Madam?" asked the Goblin.

"Not according to the tests I took with the MACUSA," said Helen. "They consider me to be what they call a "wild squib." My family doesn't do magic, at least they didn't until Lily Evans Potter came along. I can ask Personnel at Gringotts Southwest to forward my records or send you copies myself."

"Are you planning to leave our subsidiary to take magical training, Madam?" asked the Goblin.

"Not if I can help it," said Helen. "I like my job, but if I left Gringotts', I'd want to become a full-up trial lawyer."

"Trial lawyer?" asked the Goblin.

"Trial lawyers do the same sort of legal functions in US courts as barristers do in the British Muggle court system," Helen replied.

"I see," said the Goblin. He paused in thought. Helen didn't read Goblin faces very well, but she didn't think he was ready to fire her.

"What was the prophecy's content?" he asked.

"Stuff to do with the Black family," said HJ, who'd had enough good sense to keep quiet until now. "I don't have enough clues to even guess."

"Mom told me to keep my mouth shut," he added.

"Sensible (garble)," said the Goblin. Harry knew that word. It was Goblin for a human woman.

"Thank you for bringing this to our attention," said the Goblin.

"That wasn't the main reason I brought you here, though," he said. "I'd like you to meet someone." The Goblin rose from his chair, gave a flick of his hand, the conference room door opened.

They walked down the hall, entered a larger room where an important-looking witch was apparently winding up some sort of conference with Goblins. Helen scanned the Goblins' faces for anyone she knew. Aside from a couple of Goblins she'd met at her own conference, she didn't recognize anybody.

The Goblin had walked over to the important-looking witch. Helen could see that the woman was not only well-dressed, but she had a look of authority, and she also had an entourage of harried-looking aides.

"Minister Bagnold," said the Goblin. "I'd like to introduce you to Helen Morgendorffer. And her great-great-grand-nephew."

"How do you do, Ma'am," said Helen. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

The older woman looked at Helen and HJ with some, but not a lot of interest.

 _Carpe diem_. Helen had an idea. It was probably a bad one. She lifted off HJ's baseball cap.

Minister Bagnold's eyes widened.

"You're Harry Potter," she said.

"Yes, Ma'am," said Harry.

"And you're," said Minister Bagnold.

"Lily Evans Potter's great-aunt," said Helen. "We took him in after we learned about him. He's been with us for about eight years now."

"Thank you for taking him in," said Minister Bagnold, "the wizarding world owes him, and you, a great debt. If there is any favor I can do you, I would be happy to oblige."

Helen smiled. _Blood in the water_ , thought HJ.

"As a matter of fact, Minister, there is," said Helen. "As Harry's legal guardian under American law, I feel responsible for managing his financial affairs. I consider Harry to be a son, and I want to make sure that he's not only able to afford the best schooling while he's living under my roof, but that he'll be well-set financially when he's set up on his own. I've been trying to get control of Harry's estate for over half a decade now, and I've been having trouble over here."

"Who is his magical guardian?" asked Minister Bagnold.

"Albus Dumbledore," Helen replied. "I believe that Albus Dumbledore is a great man, a great wizard, and a great hero in his own right, but he's also a very busy man. I've checked his current resume and I see that Professor Dumbledore is holding down what look like five full-time jobs. I fear that the great man is pre-occupied and can't give my great-great-grand-nephew's estate the time and attention that it needs. I think I can do a better job, and I'd appreciate a little help in persuading the great man to let this go."

Minister Bagnold's eyebrows rose. She didn't know about this matter; she hadn't heard a peep from Dumbledore. Still, if Madam Morgendorffer was a blood relative, she'd look into this.

"And what is your position at Gringotts, Madam Morgendorffer?" said Minister Bagnold.

"I'm a lawyer for Gringotts Southwest, one of Gringotts' American subsidiaries," said Helen. "I handle corporate law and assist with estate planning. I've been with them for over seven years."

"I see," said Minister Bagnold.

She turned her head to the Goblin. "Mister Great-claws, is she who and what she says she is?"

"She is indeed," the Goblin replied.

"I see," said the Minister. "Well, Madam, I will be happy to do my small part to assuage an old man's vanity. Priscilla, take note."

"Yes, ma'am," said a harried-looking younger witch to Minister Bagnold's side. Helen thought the witch was in her early twenties.

"A pleasure to meet you, Madam Morgendorffer," said Minister Bagnold. "And a pleasure to meet you, Harry. I look forward to seeing great things from you when you get to Hogwarts."

HJ blushed. "Thank you, Ma'am," he said.

The minister's eyebrows rose. "A southern accent?" said Minister Bagnold.

"Well, Ma'am, we don't live here," said Helen.

The Minister chuckled. "Good point."


	25. Dance of the Hours

HPM Dance of the Hours

 _Daria_ is the creation of Glenn Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. _Harry Potter_ is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling, Warner Brothers, and Wizarding World. I own neither, and neither expect nor deserve financial compensation for this story. I am writing for my own amusement and for ego gratification.

What if Minerva McGonagall had been able to persuade Professor McGonagall to place baby Harry Potter with different blood relatives instead of with Petunia Dursley and her husband: the Morgendorffers from MTV's _Daria_?

Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer

Albus Dumbledore's Monday was not going as he'd expected. True, he had expected to be busy. As the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he had expected to cope with the minutiae of running one of the foremost schools of witchcraft and wizardry in Europe, and the only such school of its size and import in Britain. He'd not only had to deal with teachers' reports concerning their curricula and how their students were progressing, but also any reports concerning the more serious discipline and personal problems that Professor McGonagall or the other Heads of Houses couldn't deal with on their own. Plus, there were matters concerning the school and grounds, wear and tear on the classrooms and hallways, as well as the upkeep of building exteriors and the school's grounds. Some of the wear and tear would require money and materials to repair it; magic had its limits. He'd probably have to bring in Goblins or magical workmen to work on the repairs during the Christmas or Easter holidays.

He'd hoped to keep his calendar clear to deal with Madam Morgendorffer and whatever agenda she might have brought over but found that he'd had two major distractions dropped in his lap. The first concerned the aftermath of a turbulent meeting of the school's Board of Governors. Not only had some of the governors gotten wind of the continuing difficulty finding qualified faculty to fill the school's Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, but there was also the matter of bad feelings regarding George Whetstone's attempt to add a second mathematics teacher to the school's faculty. The half-blooded governor had argued that there simply weren't enough jobs available within the magical community for all of youngsters leaving Hogwarts and Magical Britain's other schools, and that pre-calculus and other mathematics courses would help some of the school's graduates find employment in Muggle jobs or placement in Muggle schools. Whetstone had also claimed that his proposal had had support from Gringotts, but it was not enough. His proposal had been crushed by the Board's Pure Blood bloc led by Lucius Malfoy, who'd argued that wizards and witches leaving the wizarding world deserved no support from the school.

Dumbledore wished that Whetstone had gracefully conceded defeat, but the half-blooded wizard had been passionate about his proposal. Whetstone had called Malfoy an elitist old-money berk who had no more idea as to how the real world worked than a flobberworm did about Transfiguration. Dumbledore knew that Whetstone had other reforms in mind—foreign language instruction, what Muggles called "Language Arts" concerning grammar and composition, as well as an elective course to teach students from magical backgrounds how to access the resources of Muggle libraries and institutions of higher learning. Alas, those other proposals were even less feasible than Whetstone's mathematics position. Whetstone wasn't quite a loose canon, but his proposals wouldn't work. He would have to find a way to persuade Whetstone to resign his post.

He began to think about just how he'd ease Whetstone off the board when he realized that it was the early afternoon and that he should probably pause for lunch—even if it was only a light meal brought up to his office by house elves. He'd just sat down at his desk when Professor McGonagall informed him that wands had been drawn and a fight had broken out in the corridor.

The fight was the result of a nasty quarrel between scion of a family that had supported Voldemort and the offspring of one of the Death Eaters' victims. Caractus Darnley, a Ravenclaw, had insulted Suzanah Biggles, a Hufflepuff, in the hallway, and had told her that not only was he glad that the Death Eaters had killed her father and uncle, but that he wished that they'd gone on to exterminate the rest of her clan. If Caractus had been somewhat wiser, he would have left it there. He went on to say that what the school really needed was a cleansing of the filthy Mudblooded vermin soiling its hallways and that he hoped he'd be leading the fight. At that, tempers frayed, wands were drawn and a fight broke out.

It was an ugly fight. Several of the brawlers had been sent to the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey told him that a couple of cases were sufficiently severe that they might have to be sent off to St. Mungo's.

Worse, owls had been sent, and several relatives of the injured from both sides of the brawl had contacted the DMLE. The Headmaster then spent several hours he didn't have to spare trying to head off the DMLE's visiting the injured, and attempting to pour oil on trouble waters. Neither the Darnleys nor the Hufflepuff girl's parents had been mollified. Even more troublesome was that one of the Harrows was Miss Biggles' wizarding Godmother; and the Harrows were an important pureblood family, even if they weren't members of the "Sacred 28." Professor Dumbledore sighed; he realized that he might have to resort to stern measures to lessen tensions. One or both of the duelists might have to be expelled, and he had to prepare a defense for his actions.

By the time that the last irate wizard had been escorted out of his office, the sun had set, and the old wizard realized that he just wasn't going to have the time he'd hoped to have to prepare an adequate defense as to why he should be allowed to retain control of Harry Potter's estate. A clock on the wall confirmed his worst thoughts: it was time to floo to Gringott's.

He undid the charms that kept unwanted visitors from entering his office, picked up some powder, said "Gringott's!" and flooed away.

Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer

To my loyal fans, I do apologize for the lengthy delay. I got distracted by my other story and by some real-life concerns and it was only recently that the creative juices for this story began flowing and I could start writing and publishing new material.

I am nearly done with proof-reading Helen's showdown with Professor Dumbledore at Gringotts. Among other things, the next segment will show that a certain young Texas-raised wizard has different interests from his canon counterpart. But to say more will spoil the story.


	26. Blood on the Saddle

_Daria_ is the creation of Glenn Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. _Harry Potter_ is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling, Warner Brothers, and Wizarding World. I own neither, and neither expect nor deserve financial compensation for this story. I am writing for my own amusement and for ego gratification.

Harry Potter has been placed with different blood relatives instead of with Petunia Dursley: the Morgendorffers from MTV's _Daria_.

Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer

Professor Dumbledore emerged from the Gringotts' fireplace and saw that there was a small reception committee waiting for him: Madam Morgendorffer, Harry Potter, several goblins, and to his surprise, a young witch named Priscilla Goodwin whom he knew to be an aide to Minister Bagnold. He glanced at Madam Morgendorffer and found her mindset disturbing: gone was the uncertain post-graduate he'd met eight years ago. Her mind and the expression on the face reflected that of a determined, well-prepared woman who knew what she was about.

The Goblins' mindsets weren't reassuring, either. He could sense the ever-latent suspicion Goblins had of wizards, particularly more powerful ones like himself. He could also sense how they felt about Madam Morgendorffer, and what he sensed was disturbing. Regardless of their dislike of humans in general and wizards in particular, Goblins could be loyal to those they saw as valuable and trustworthy employees. From the look of things, it seemed that Helen Morgendorffer might have achieved that status.

Finally, there was Miss Goodwin. Had Minister Bagnold taken an interest in the dispute concerning control of the Potter estate? By the look of things, it seemed that she had.

Helen walked up to him, carefully avoiding eye-contact. "Before we begin," she said, "I have a message for you, Professor. One of our friends gave it to me and told me to pass it along. You might want to read it later in a private place."

"And please don't lose it," she added. She handed him a note in a paper envelope, which he pocketed. He'd read it later. He wondered if it was as important as Madam Morgendorffer seemed to think.

Madam Morgendorffer stepped back, walked around the desk, and sat down next to her nephew. Professor Dumbledore noted that she and her great-great-nephew were flanked by Goblins.

"To business," said Great-claws. Dumbledore saw the senior Goblin nod at Madam Morgendorffer.

"Madam Morgendorffer," said Great-claws.

"I called this meeting in part because I am the legal guardian of Harry James Potter, also known as Harry James Morgendorffer under US and MACUSA law," said Helen. "As legal guardian for my great-grand-nephew, I also feel responsible for handling his financial affairs. For the last eight years I have attempted to determine who had control of Harry's estate and what its current status might be. I have only recently learned that the estate was controlled by Albus Dumbledore, his current magical guardian."

"I would like an audit and an accounting as to how the funds of the Potter estate has been managed since the deaths of James and Lily Potter in October, 1981."

Professor Dumbledore was able to maintain a placid exterior, but underneath he was alarmed. He'd not been paying attention to developments in Texas. This woman was no glorified law clerk, but a full-blown lawyer.

One of the Goblins to Helen's left stood up on the chair. "Gringotts Southwest sees Helen Morgendorffer as a valued, trusted employee and supports her efforts to gain control of her great-great-grand-nephew's estate," he said. This was far worse than Professor Dumbledore expected. Professor Dumbledore not only noted the Muggle-style dress that the Goblin wore, but his American accent.

This was worse than he'd expected. The last thing he could afford would be a legal dispute facing an opponent who'd already turned up some powerful allies.

"I would rather that this matter come to a quick and amicable resolution, as among friends," said Helen. "Nevertheless, unless what I see as the uncooperative attitude of certain parties regarding the administration of the Potter estates continue with their current behavior comes to an end, I am willing to take this matter to the courts and litigate. I believe I have grounds for disputing control of the Potter Estate but winning my case based on _In re: Gaunt_ and _Prince versus Allstone_. In both cases, the legal guardian was not only able to petition the Wizengamut for change of guardianship but also to demand audits of the estates by neutral parties. In both cases, there had been wills filed as public records and audits made of the estates of the adult decedants. I have yet to see a last will and testament for James and/or Lily Potter or an audit made of their estates at the time of their deaths in 1981. Should I move to litigation, I would insist on legal discovery of the Potters' will and file for discovery of any inventory made of the Potter estate made at their time of death and an audit of the Potter Estate as it now exists."

"Or," said Helen, making a dramatic pause, "I am open to a settlement and we can wind this matter up this evening."

At other times, Albus Dumbledore would brush off the Squib's threat and dare her to litigate, but this was not one of those times. It was as if Helen Morgendorffer had carefully chosen her time delivered her threat at a time when it could do the most damage if she carried it out. He was not only overextended, but he was painfully politically vulnerable. If his enemies weren't aware as to just how vulnerable he was at the present, they would be by morning.

"I am glad to see that Madam Morgendorffer takes her role as guardian seriously," he said, giving an air of non-chalance. "Perhaps we can resolve this matter with a little more privacy."

"Madam, are you willing?" he said to Helen.

"I'd be willing if I could trouble my co-workers to advise me," said Helen. "I may need to consult with them about bank policy."

There was an open door leading to a small side room; Great-claws gestured towards it. Professor Dumbledore stepped into it and was shortly joined by Madam Morgendorffer and a couple of goblins, at least one of which Professor Dumbledore had surmised was one of Madam Morgendorffer's American co-workers. Helen pulled out a Muggle-style file folder as well as a notebook that he'd heard Muggles describe as a legal pad. She also uncapped a fountain pen which Professor Dumbledore recognized as a souvenir pen sold by Ilvermorny to parents and alumni of the American magical school.

"What do you want, Madam?" he asked Helen.

"I want control of the Potter estate," said Helen, "as I believe I should have been given several years ago."

"I believe that I am more than capable of maintaining my responsibilities as Harry's legal guardian," Professor Dumbledore said gently.

"Professor," Helen said with the air of a gentle advisor giving advice. "You're overextended. According to my research, you are currently holding down no less than five full-time jobs. Your role as headmaster alone is particularly demanding and time-consuming. In addition, you are also Chief Warlock of the Wizengamut, not to mention your other three jobs. To my mind, that means you do not have the time to give the Potter estate the time and attention it needs to be managed properly."

"I do not believe there is any reason to impugn malfeasance on my part concerning my administration of the Potters' affairs," said Professor Dumbledore.

"I'm not implying that there would be," Helen said blandly. "And should we move to litigation, it's likely that any audits made of the Potter estate prior to November 1st, 1981 and its current status would support your claim."

"Still, if we go to court, there would probably be unfriendly third parties who might impugn malfeasance. But if we come to a satisfactory agreement this evening, they won't be in such a position to make such claims, would they?"

Helen and Professor Dumbledore looked at each other and said nothing. Helen was no Occulemens, but she knew enough about legilimency not to stare in the old headmaster's eyes. Since she knew she had no mental barriers, she made do by concentrating on every awful childhood song still stuck in her memory.

" _Hello, Operator,  
Give me number nine,  
And if you don't have that number,  
Give me back my dime…"_

"So what would you have me do, Madam?" said Professor Dumbledore, interrupting Helen's mental playback of _Blood on the Saddle_ and Timmy the Cowboy's gory demise.

"I am asking you to yield and yield gracefully. Yield control of the Potter estate now, I will not pursue any legal actions against you regarding the estate's administration under your care, and you can walk away with your head held high, no lawsuit, and your reputation intact."

 _And if you don't, I'll be damned if I let Harry get into your clutches_ , thought Helen. _He'll go to Ilvermorny or the Cascadia Institute. He won't be going to Hogwarts._

Curse the woman. She knew he was a Legilimens and could read that thought. It was decision time. The Headmaster realized that he had to choose between two unpleasant options. The goblins' presence meant that Madam Morgendorffer had the backing of her Gringotts employers. Miss Goodwin's presence meant that the Minister was watching, so he couldn't think of charming her. If he attempted to use magic to influence her, Miss Goodwin would know in an instant.

He looked ruefully at Madam Morgendorffer. This woman wasn't just good, she was _**very**_ good. She made no threats, at least no explicit ones—unless the Ilvermorny pen was such. A pity she wasn't a witch and allied to the Order.

He remained silent for a long time, thinking over his options. He sighed. This round went to Madam Morgendorffer. "Very well, I agree," he said. "I am willing to sign an agreement signing over control of the Potter estate this evening with the proviso that I face no litigation regarding how I administered it for the last several years."

Helen marveled at how fast the wizard was willing to settle. She had thought that he'd put up more of a fight, not that she had much pity for him. She suspected that the old man had conceded because of some crisis connected with one of his other jobs. Or possibly he or his allies in the Wizengamut were having trouble. She also wondered just how much of Harry's money the old man had skimmed off the last few years.

Helen wanted more but was willing to settle for what she could get, and this looked better than what she expected. Still, she would have liked to have seen the old rascal's accounts audited but realized that Professor Dumbledore still had more than enough clout to avoid that.

"Agreed," said Helen.

"One other thing, Professor," said Helen. "The keys. Please place them on the table."

"Now?" said Professor Dumbledore, his eyebrows raised.

"Now," said Helen.

"Very well," said Professor Dumbledore. He reached into a pocket and handed over a keychain with several keys. Helen reached for it, but one of the Gringotts Goblins grabbed the keyring first.

"Allow me, Madam," he said.

The Goblin examined the keys and key ring for half a minute or so, nodded, then slide the keys over to Helen.

"If the two parties have reached agreement, an agreement is waiting in the main room," said Great-claws.

They all stepped back into the main room. Mr. Great-claws nodded to a subordinate, who produced a pair of legal documents. Both Madam Morgendorffer and the Professor read the legal documents, then first Professor Dumbledore, then Helen Morgendorffer signed. HJ had to sign, too, not as HJ Morgendorffer, but as Harry James Potter.

Miss Goodwin and a couple of the goblins escorted Professor Dumbledore to one of the Gringotts fireplaces, where he flooed away.

"That was fast," said Mr. Great-claws with satisfaction. Having one of his people put one of the more prominent wizards in Magical Britain at a disadvantage put him in a good mood. "What now, Madam Morgendorffer?"

"Sirs," said Helen. "As one of my first acts as Harry James Potter's financial trustee, I'd like to shift the contents of the Potter estate vaults from their current vaults to their new ones. I'd like to do it tonight, if that's possible."

Mr. Great-claws smiled in happy surprise. This woman was not only clever but moved quickly. He expected her to shift the contents of the vaults, but he thought she'd wait until the morning. This would be a late evening, but an interesting one.

"We can do that," he said. "Let's go."

Helen, HJ, Speedicutt, and Griphook took the cart down to the Potter vaults, deep below London. The cart eventually rolled to a stop. Helen wondered how many thousands of feet they were below the surface. Griphook picked up a lamp, then asked Helen for her key.

"We will open the Potter family vaults so you may see the contents," said the Goblin. "Master Potter may not access them until he is of age."

He opened the first vault. Both Helen and HJ gaped at the contents. Most of the vault was occupied by piles of gold coins, with a couple of stacks of gold plates and a set of golden goblets, and what looked like several large jewelry boxes. Helen could see that the stacks of gold coin rose to about the tip of Harry's nose.

 _I knew the Potters were well off_ , thought Helen, _but I didn't know they were_ that _well-off_.

The second Potter vault was almost as awe-inspiring. This one had more piles of gold coin, as well as what looked like silver ingots and a couple of chests of what was probably jewelry. This time, the stacked gold coins only reached the level of Harry's chin.

Helen and HJ were so bedazzled by the contents of the Potter vaults that they missed the Goblin's scowl as he looked over the Potter family vault's contents. Despite the fact that wizards controlled their contents, the Goblins still had a fairly good idea as to how much gold there had been in the Potter vaults when James and Lily Potter had met their untimely deaths. The piles had noticeably shrunk since they were last visited. _There should have been far more gold in those vaults,_ thought Griphook. _Someone had been stealing_.

It took Helen a while to get over the sight of HJ's family vaults. The sight had been staggering, so staggering that it took her a while to begin to organize her thoughts again. Those vaults' contents were worth a lot of money, at least if that was real gold. She suspected that HJ was wealthier than her mother. by a factor of ten or more. Helen was the first to have the shock of the Potter vaults wear off. She looked at HJ's expression. He was still engrossed at the sight of the vault's contents, but Helen almost see the wheels start to spin in HJ's head as he stared at the piles of wizard gold. She knew about HJ's fascination with high-speed automobiles and that Daria had nicknamed one of his shelves "The Garage." The Garage currently held three pricey die-cast models of high-end sports cars and Helen and Jake had ordered a fourth one for Christmas.

Nevertheless, it was time to squash one of HJ's big ideas.

"HJ Morgendorffer, don't even _**think**_ about buying a Ferrari until you're out on your own," she said.

HJ tried to don an expression of innocence and failed. "Whatever," he said.

-(((O-O)))—

"So what do you want to do next, Madam Morgendorffer?" said Great-claws.

"To start with, I want the contents of the family vaults inventoried and evaluated," said Helen.

"Also, I see large piles of coins just sitting there in the vaults," said Helen. "I want some of that wealth out there and working," said Helen, "not just sitting around in a hole in the ground."

"Madam," Greatclaws, a tone of resentment in his voice.

Helen put up her hand placatingly. "I know this is a very secure vault," she said, "even more secure than top-secret No-Maj military institutions. But this is money that is sitting around doing nothing."

"I believe that Gringott's main bank handles investments just like Gringott's Southwest?" said Helen.

"We do," said the Goblin. "We're proud of our rates of return, too."

"Of course I expect that the Potter Estate will be paying Gringotts the proper management fee for administering its investments," said Helen.

Great-claws' feeling of resentment evaporated. This Squib was not going to sit idly by and let the piles of gold grow dust. There was money to be made here. The Goblin put on a predatory smile.

"Madam, I remember you saying that some of your ancestors took scalps," he said. "I think we can add some to your collection."

-(((O-O)))—

Author's note:

The version of _Blood on the Saddle_ that Helen was singing to herself was not the doleful Tex Ritter version, but a peppier, major-key version shot through with pre-teen girlish Schadenfreude like the one girls my older sister's age were singing at summer camp in the early 1960's.

" _Blood on the Saddle_  
 _Blood on the Ground_  
 _Great big puddles of blood_  
 _All Around_

 _Timmy the Cowboy_  
 _Lying there dead_  
 _Cause his little cow-pony_  
 _Done Stomped on his head._ "


	27. In Memoriam

HP Morgendorffer In Memoriam

 _Daria_ is the creation of Glenn Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. _Harry Potter_ is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling, Warner Brothers, and Wizarding World. I own neither, and neither expect nor deserve financial compensation for this story. I am writing for my own amusement and for ego gratification.

Harry Potter has been placed with different blood relatives instead of with Petunia Dursley: the Morgendorffers from MTV's _Daria_.

This chapter was previously posted at PPMB as Godric's Hollow 1988.

Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer

Helen and HJ returned to their hotel tired and ready to sleep after a long day. Both of them slept until mid-morning, got up, ate breakfast, and then took a stroll down Charing Cross Road. A sports shop caught HJ's eye and they both went in. Like its US counterparts, it sold sports team souvenirs and paraphernalia, although most of its stock catered to soccer. A small corner display drew HJ's attention: a small open display cabinet that sold American-style baseball caps and tees for the London Kings. HJ had never heard of them.

A sales clerk walked over from the side and smiled. "He likes baseball, does he?" he said.

"HJ's crazy about baseball," said Helen. "It's one of his passions. I confess I've never heard of the London Kings."

"It's a new team," said the sales clerk. "They're playing their first season this coming spring. I don't know if they'll develop a following here; Britain's never been much for American baseball."

"Well, they've got a new follower now," said Helen. She wondered if the London Kings would still be playing when Harry started Hogwarts. She bought him a souvenir ball cap, as well as a cap for Jake, then they did a little more strolling.

After returning to their hotel room to drop off their souvenirs, they walked back over to Diagon Alley, HJ now sporting his London Kings baseball cap. They stopped at Gringotts again, this time for a more serious purpose. Helen made hasty arrangements for a curse-breaker and a body-guard for the following morning. She also wrote a note to Terrence Case saying that she had replaced Albus Dumbledore as legal guardian of the Potter Estate, and that she'd be needing an agent in Magical Britain.

She and HJ turned to walk away when she heard a familiar voice call her name.

"Helen!" he said.

"Hi, Roger," said Helen. Roger Crowell was a younger wizard who formerly worked at Gringotts Southwest, but now worked at Gringotts Cascadia, handling wizarding banking in the Pacific Northwest. He reminded her of herself back in her college days: young, idealistic, and full of energy. She was surprised to see him here.

"So what are you doing here?" he said.

"I'm here on business," said Helen.

"And who is this?" he said.

"This is my great-grandnephew HJ Morgendorffer," Helen cut in swiftly.

"He sure looks like—" Roger began.

"I keep hearing that all the time," said HJ, ratcheting up his Texas accent and rolling his eyes. Minister Bagnold's aide Priscilla Goodwin had revealed a hidden streak of mischief and had left HJ a present at the hotel desk when he came downstairs that morning: a particularly saccharine Harry Potter book supposedly covering his exploits since he'd disappeared from Magical Britain. After plowing through thirty pages, then skimming a couple of paragraphs, it was all HJ could do to avoid gagging. A unicorn named Portia? A Harem? He didn't have a horse, he didn't _want_ a horse, and didn't want a harem, either. Living with Daria and Quinn was bad enough. He hoped that Daria never found out about these books or he'd never hear the end of it.

He put out his hand. "Call me HJ," he said.

"Roger Crowell," said Roger.

"So, have you seen some of the sights?" he said.

"I came here for a conference and to settle some matters concerning HJ's estate," said Helen. "What sights we've seen are mostly the No-Maj ones."

"Have you seen the memorial in Godric's Hollow?" said Roger.

"No," said Helen. "Have you?" She knew exactly which memorial Roger was talking about, the one to James and Lily Potter. It was one of the sights she wanted to see, if she could squeeze in the time.

"Yes," said Roger. "It's very moving. To Mundies it looks just like another War Memorial."

"Wait a minute. Could you see it?" he said.

"I'm pretty sure I could," said Helen. "I can see the street entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, even if I can't work the bricks." A plan began to form in her mind. She'd worked with Roger for the better part of a year when he was working for Gringotts Southwest.

"How are you at Apparation?" she asked.

"Pretty good," said Roger.

"Can you take passengers?" said Helen.

"I don't see why not," said Roger, "at least not if I'm carrying a tour bus-sized load. I ought to be able to take you guys along, though."

-(((O-O)))—

They appeared in Godric's Hollow fifteen minutes later. They didn't appear right next to the memorial, but in an alley popular with wizards and witches wishing to apparate near Godric Hollow's second most famous site. Helen had insisted on bringing flowers, non-magical flowers, and had haggled the price down from what the street vendor at Diagon Alley had wanted to charge them.

It took her a little time for her stomach to settle back down. Helen hated Apparation, even if she thought it was necessary. But sometimes you had to move fast and do the unexpected, and this was an even better time to come out here, she thought.

They walked out of the alley, turned right onto a side street, and then walked down to what looked like a busier thoroughfare.

"The Memorial's over here," said Roger.

"Still have your camera?" she asked HJ.

"Yes, Mom," said HJ. He looked at the frame counter and frowned. "But I'm about out of film."

"That's OK," she said, putting her hand on HJ's shoulder. "We'll take a couple of pictures, head back to London, and get some there."

"If that's OK with you, Roger," she added.

"That's fine," said Roger.

The Memorial was several blocks away from intersection that led to the alleyway. Helen first saw the Memorial as a tall obelisk that looked much the sort of monument a government would set for fallen war heroes. The spells concealing the Memorial were stronger here; Helen realized that she'd have to concentrate a little harder to see the Memorial's true form. Still, Helen paused and bowed her head; whatever wizards may think, she thought that the men and women who'd fought in both world wars deserved to be commemorated, too. She stared at the Memorial and concentrated, then looked in amazement as the spells shielding the Memorial yielded enough to let her and HJ see its true shape.

The Memorial was a set of statues showing a young couple: a wizard, presumably James Potter, standing next to a witch, her grand-niece Lily Evans Potter, holding an infant. Whoever had made the statues had done a good job. Helen had only seen photos of James Potter, but Lily's statue strongly resembled the ghostly vision she'd seen in Houston. The man was posed as if he'd just been distracted by a noise at the door and was turning away to deal with it. The woman was posed staring at him with a look of concern on her face.

There was a plaque on a plinth beneath that statue that read "In memory of James and Lily Potter, and of the Boy Who Lived, and their great sacrifice in defeating the Dark Lord. October 31st, 1981." HJ looked at the statue, made a brief choking noise to hold back the tears, and then started crying.

Helen started crying, too. This wasn't just historical event set on foreign soil, but something both personal and familial. Lily was her grand-niece, even if she'd never met her while she was alive. James Potter was her grand-nephew, howbeit through marriage, and HJ was not only their son, but her son as well. Harry was crying into her jacket; she put her arm around his back and let his sobs come out while she blinked away her own tears.

They stood there a long while. Eventually, HJ's sobs ran down. He looked up at her, his eyes still red. "I know," said Helen. "It hurts." Meanwhile, Roger had the good grace to say nothing.

They stood there a couple of minutes longer. Despite the fact that she didn't feel particularly religious, Helen muttered something like a prayer for James and Lily and hoped that they were happy and in a better place.

Their tears slowed down enough for Helen to again be aware of the world around them. "HJ, could I have your camera?" said Helen. "I want pictures I can show Jake, the girls, and your aunt. I think they ought to see them." HJ passed her the camera, and Helen took it out of its case.

Helen did not make HJ pose next to the statue. HJ did not want to pose and Helen wasn't about to force him. She took a picture from one angle, moved, then took another from another angle.

She'd just handed the camera back to HJ when she heard a voice speak up from behind her.

"I was hoping to find you here," he said.

Roger drew his wand, but the wizard standing behind Helen reappeared to one side of Roger and disarmed him with a couple of quick hexes.

"Not bad for someone who'd learned dueling at school," said the wizard, keeping his wand pointed at Roger, "but real-life duels are bit more rough-and-tumble. You need to work on that."

"Lord Black," said Helen. The wizard nodded back at her.

"Lad," said the old wizard.

"Sir," HJ said carefully.

"I thought I might find you here," said Arcturus Black. "I didn't think you had much time left before you had to return to America."

"And this young man is?" said the older wizard.

"Roger Crowell," said Helen. "He was a co-worker at my bank. He now works for Gringotts Cascadia. I persuaded him to take me and HJ by here. I was originally going to come here tomorrow morning."

"Be unpredictable and do the unexpected," Arcturus Black said approvingly. "The fates made a mistake when they didn't make you a witch."

"Lord Black," said another, more familiar voice. "I didn't expect to find you here chatting with Madam Morgendorffer."

"We had dinner together a couple of nights ago, Dumbledore," said Arcturus. "She said some very interesting things at table. Matters that you and I need to discuss at length."

Arcturus put up his hand. "Excuse me, Headmaster," he said.

"Young man, do you work with the cursebreakers?" he said, turning his attention to Roger.

"No, sir," said Roger, "but I can get to them quickly."

"Capital," said Lord Black. "I have some work for them, something I found in my son's house, a locket. Put them on notice that I'll be coming in later this afternoon."

"Here's your wand," he said, handing Roger's wand back to him. "Now you can say that you've sparred with Arcturus Black. That ought to be good for getting drinks or a free meal."

Roger swallowed. "Thank you, sir."

"We'll escort you back to where you came in," said Arcturus.

"Any further thoughts, Madam?" said Arcturus.

Helen felt another moment of dizziness. She hoped it was prophesy. Otherwise she needed to see a doctor when she got home. She put up here hand and took a few deep breaths.

"Nothing much," said Helen. "A rat, boys, all of them with red hair. I think that "strange" I told you about the other night might be a family name or part of one."

She took a few more deep breaths. _Get a grip, Helen_ , she told herself.

"I hope this doesn't get to be a regular habit," she said.

-(((O-O)))—

Author's notes:

"Mundie" A term I invented for North American magical people to refer to non-magical humans. The term is derived from "Mundane," a term used by members of the Society for Creative Anachronism to refer to ordinary folks, particularly those not in costume. My thought is that at least some magicals would use SCA events as cover to mingle with each other and that there'd be cross-cultural pollination. There'd probably be other kinds of cross-cultural stuff going on, too, but Harry Potter Morgendorffer is a story for all ages, not just adults, so I won't talk about that.


	28. Dinner With The Dursleys

HP Morgendorffer Dinner With The Dursleys

DISCLAIMER: _Harry Potter_ is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling, Warner Brothers, and Wizarding World. _Daria_ is the creation of Glen Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. I own neither franchise. Nor do I expect or deserve any financial reward for this work; I am writing for my own amusement and ego gratification.

Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer

Roger was still awestruck by not only meeting Albus Dumbledore, learning that Helen was The Boy Who Lived's guardian and meeting the head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, but he did manage to apparate HJ, Helen, and himself back to the Alley. After thanking Roger for his help, Helen and HJ went searching for a photo lab. They not only knew that there was one listed in the guidebooks, but they'd seen it on previous visits.

One of the ironies about Diagon Alley and its environs was that despite appearances, some parts **_did_** move with the times. While most visitors thought the Alley's calendar stopped moving shortly after Victoria had been crowned Queen of Great Britain and Ireland; that wasn't really the case. Diagon Alley were a few shops catering to those wizards and witches needing access to those devices and processes that had been develop during the 150 plus years that had passed since then, including photo labs with quick turn-around services—at least if you knew where to look.

As it so happened Helen Morgendorffer was one of those who knew just where to look. Once inside, she popped the back of the camera open, handed the film cannister to one of the clerks at the lab, and said that she wanted prints within three hours, and triple prints of the last few frames. She had to prepay a hefty premium for rush processing and courier delivery but told herself that it would be worth it.

They left the photo lab and walked back towards the Leaky Cauldron, Harry pausing to open the door for an exquisitely-coiffed and dressed blonde witch who reeked of wealth and high blood-status. She passed through without giving them so much as a glance. They were in luck by the Cauldron; a harried-looking witch minding two children had opened the barrier and Helen and HJ simply followed after them. They were back in their hotel room by early afternoon.

"It's time to start thinking about dinner," Helen told HJ. She reached into her suitcase and pulled out a nice dress she'd packed for such an occasion.

"Do I have to wear that jacket and tie again?" said HJ.

"You do," said Helen. "I think I ought to look nice for our cousins, and so should you. Also, since it takes me longer than it does you or Jake to get ready to go somewhere, you might want to use some of the extra time to do some homework. We _**are**_ leaving tomorrow evening."

HJ sighed, opened his suitcase, and stated looking over his assignments. Thinking about school here felt weird. _I went to London and did homework_ , he grumbled to himself. However, he and Daria both shared a streak of realism and HJ knew that his homework assignments weren't going to go away if he ignored them. He decided to do the math stuff first. Some of the problems had fractions that didn't match; fortunately, Daria had taught him some work-arounds.

His math homework completed, HJ had started playing catch-up on _The Scarecrow of Romney March_ , the young adult novel the English teacher had assigned for his class, when the telephone rang. Helen picked it up, and after a short discussion with the receptionist, told HJ that their pictures were ready and waiting downstairs. They didn't go downstairs immediately; Helen waited until she'd finished styling her hair and putting on her make-up, then together they went downstairs and picked up their prints and negatives.

Upon her return to their room with the photos, Helen and HJ quickly went through their prints and deciding which ones they wanted to show the Dursleys and which ones they didn't. Helen kept some of the photos the ones showing some of London's non-magical sights, the Memorial at Godric's Hollow, as well as one showing her posed with a large cauldron and another showing HJ holding a broom as if he was trying to play it like a guitar. That was enough; they didn't think the Dursleys wanted to see any more. Those weren't the only pictures she could show: she'd brought some photos of Jake and the girls, as well as extra snapshots Rita and Amy had sent her.

It was soon time to set off for the restaurant where they'd meet Petunia and Vernon. Properly coiffed and dressed, although Helen did tell HJ to wear one of his baseball caps, they went downstairs to ask a bell-boy to hail a taxicab.

They arrived at the restaurant just under a half an hour later. The restaurant reminded Helen of some of the restaurants where she'd dined with her parents and her sisters back when she was a girl living in Virginia. One thing had changed with the times: the restaurant the Dursleys had chosen had a large, prominent sign displaying its dress code and informing would-be patrons that the dress code's standards would be enforced. Back in the day such signs wouldn't have been displayed; everybody just knew. The maître d did try to have HJ remove his cap, retreating when Helen fixed him with a steely glare and informed him that she would allow HJ to keep wearing it until she and he were seated.

She and HJ glanced around the restaurant to see if she could spot the Dursleys. She did spot one possibility, a large man seated at a table with a obese-looking blonde boy who looked to be about HJ's age. She thought those might be the Dursleys, but she wasn't sure. She didn't see Petunia, though, so she and HJ stayed put.

Petunia emerged from the ladies' room and glanced around the restaurant to see if she could spot her great aunt.

"Helen," said Petunia.

"Petunia," said Helen.

Aunt Petunia looked at HJ and gave him a disapproving look. The boy looked so much like the arrogant Berk her sister had married.

"Aunt Petunia," said HJ.

"Shall we be seated?" said Helen.

Petunia paused for a moment, then said "Let's." Together with HJ, they walked over to the table where the heavyset man and the blond boy were seated.

Vernon rose from the table. Helen hadn't thought much of him but grudgingly gave him credit for knowing some manners.

"You must be Mrs. Morgendorffer," said Vernon. "How do you do?"

"Call me Helen," said Helen, giving him a smile that HJ thought was a little forced.

"And you must be my sister-in-law's boy," said Vernon, sitting back down.

"Yes, sir," said HJ, his brain cells processing information and trying to form an opinion of his uncle besides large guy who never writes back. "Officially I'm Harry Morgendorffer, but most people call me HJ."

Vernon made a grunting noise, like a grown-up who wasn't that impressed.

"And this must be Dudley," said Helen. "How do you do? I'm your great-great aunt Helen."

Dudley first went wide-eyed and then went tongue-tied.

"Well, say something, boy," said Vernon.

"How do you do, ma'am," said Dudley.

Harry wasn't impressed with his first sight of his cousin Dudley. _Butterball,_ he thought.

Helen and HJ took their seats, Helen informing HJ that he could take off his cap. Dudley looked at HJ's scar in curiosity.

The waiter came to their table and took their orders and their wine selections. The boys weren't having any: Harry would be getting bubbling mineral water and Dudley would be getting a soda pop.

The waiter left and conversation resumed.

"Well, what did you do today?" asked Vernon.

"We took it easy," said Helen. "We were both very busy yesterday. I straightened out Harry's accounts yesterday evening, but we were up until the early hours. We slept until mid-morning, then made a quick trip to the Memorial in Godric's Hollow."

"Have you ever seen it?" Helen asked Petunia.

"No," said Petunia. "Godric's Hollow is off in Devon, and I've never been."

"So why were you here, Helen?" said Vernon. He felt ill-at-ease talking to his dotty American relative on a first-name basis.

"A business conference," said Helen. "My employers wanted me to host a seminar on employee relations. Some of us come from very different backgrounds."

Petunia looked at her with a sniff and Helen thought she heard Vernon mutter something about bloody wogs.

"So who do you work for, Helen?" asked Petunia.

"I work for Gringotts Southwest," said Helen.

Petunia jerked and then said "Eeep!".

The adult part of the table went silent. Petunia finally broke it by saying "You work for _**those**_ creatures?"

Helen looked her steely in the eye and said "Yes, I work for those guys."

"But they're…," Petunia started.

"Yes they are," said Helen. "They're demanding, tetchy, sometimes hide-bound and their attitudes make Ebenezer Scrooge look like a softy. But yeah, I work for them."

"But why?" said Petunia.

"Because I'm a lawyer and they pay me good money. I may not have any _whatever_ to speak of, but I can not only move around in their circles, but I can go litigate like any other attorney. I'm bar-certified and I'm thinking about becoming a trial lawyer."

"Trial lawyer?" asked Dudley, looking confused. Helen wondered if he'd been following the conversation.

"Something like a barrister," said Helen. "We don't have barristers in the US."

"But don't you find it-uncomfortable?" said Petunia.

"Sometimes," said Helen. "On the other hand, they respect me for my abilities, not because I look like an attractive bit of fluff to decorate their offices."

"What do they consider a bit of fluff?" Vernon asked disparagingly

Helen smiled at Vernon. "Someone much shorter, with pointed teeth and sharp talons. They like my attitude, but I'm not their type."

Silence descended again on the table.

"So, Harry, what are you doing?" said Vernon.

"Going to school, Uncle Vernon," said HJ. "Normally, I'd be home with Mom and Dad and my cousins in Ruskin, but Mom said this was an exception."

"Ruskin?" said Vernon.

"The town where we live," said HJ. "It's near Austin."

"Where do you all live?"

"Little Whinging," said Vernon. "It's in Surrey."

Harry knew a little about English geography and knew that Surrey was south and west of London.

"Do you make good marks?" said Vernon. Harry had to pause and think over what he'd said.

"Yes, sir," he said. "I have to study hard to make good grades. I'm not going to be a pro baseball player and I hope to go to college one day."

"Baseball?" said Vernon. HJ frowned at him for a moment. _This guy doesn't know about baseball_ , he thought.

"It's a popular game in the US," said HJ. "They also play it in Canada, the Caribbean, and in Japan. I play outfield."

"I've heard of it. Is it anything like cricket?" asked Vernon.

"Not really," said HJ. "About the only thing I think baseball and cricket have in common is that our balls are about the same size and we have to swing bats at them."

Vernon shot a sneer at his nephew. _A stupid Yank game_ , he thought.

The conversation at table started and died, started and died.

""Do you have any of that stuff?" asked Vernon.

"What stuff?" asked HJ.

"That funny business," said Vernon.

HJ looked blankly at him. Vernon had to pluck a straw from Dudley's soda and wave it like a wand.

"Oh, _**that**_ funny stuff," said HJ.

"Isn't this a trick question?" said HJ. "You know I'm not supposed to talk about it whether I do or don't."

Helen's eyes narrowed as she listened to HJ's and his uncle's conversation. Vernon was walking towards the red line. "He's right," she said, stepping into the conversation. "He's _**not**_ supposed to talk about it. Officially, there's no such thing."

"What funny stuff?" asked Dudley.

"Stuff you don't have to worry about," HJ reassured him.

"Mom, could I be excused?" he said. "I have to go to the bathroom."

"Go ahead," said Helen.

HJ was half-way across the restaurant when Uncle Vernon announced that he also had to use the loo, got up and walked into the bathroom.

Harry was washing his hands when Vernon walked into the restroom. Harry looked around the bathroom in hope that he wouldn't be left alone with this guy. He'd already decided he didn't like him and he didn't want to be left alone with him anywhere.

"I'm warning you," said Vernon. "I don't want you telling my son about your freakiness or giving it to him."

"I'm not," said HJ. "Besides, it's not like the flu or the measles. You've either got it or you don't. I don't think he's got it. As a matter of fact, I'm so sure that he doesn't have it, I'll bet you fifty dollars US that he doesn't."

Vernon looked at the cocky little brat, wondering whether to cuff him. His opportunity disappeared when a slender man opened the door, then slid around Vernon to use the urinal.

"It's the best sort of bet," HJ continued. "It's the sort of bet I don't want to lose, and you don't want to win."

Vernon scowled at the boy. The boy clearly had a gift for timing. He also had something of the sharper about him. He wondered if he got that from Allen Barksdale or if he got it from his real father.

HJ hastily washed and dried his hands, then returned to the table. He arrived in time to overhear Mom ask Dudley if he was going to go to school near Little Whinging or go off to boarding school when he was older

"I'm going to Smeltings," Dudley said proudly, "just like my Dad." Petunia beamed with approval.

"I'm going to that Scottish place," said HJ, taking a seat. "But if they don't want me, I'll try for that place where they forgot to use the light switches."

Petunia's curiosity overcame her disapproval. "What place?" she asked.

"The one in Massachusetts," HJ said with a smirk. _"…and the lights are always on in Massachusetts…"_ he warbled.

Helen shook her head in fond disapproval. "I don't know where you got that bent for bad jokes," she said, "but you didn't get it from me or Jake."

"What lights?" said Dudley.

"An old Bee Gees song," said Helen. "HJ must have heard it on the radio."

"Do you play video games?" said Dudley.

"Yeah," said HJ. He and Dudley soon went into a discussion about _Deadly Ninja_ that didn't make sense to either Helen or Petunia. Dudley doubted that anyone could get to Level 4, but Harry had done it regularly, and had even gotten to level five before his character fell to the swordsmen. They started talking about _Treasure Hunters_ when Vernon returned to the table. "That sorcerer they have is such a doofus," said HJ. "He should have known he was in over his head and should have either given up or run off. Having magic doesn't make you bullet-proof."

Vernon thought to remind the little git not to talk about the hocus-pocus, but he saw Petunia's great-aunt eying him. He decided to play it safe and take an indirect approach "You'd better be talking about video games, and not the you-know-what."

"We're talking about video games," HJ replied. "We're talking about a character from _Treasure Hunters_ that anyone can stomp in the first thirty seconds unless he's a total idiot."

"A good right hook ought to take care of most of them," growled Vernon.

HJ pretended to look thoughtful. "Yeah, if he doesn't see you coming."

"And what is little Daria doing?" asked Petunia, changing the subject.

"She's fine," said Helen.

"And giving me a hard time," said HJ.

"They're both in the same grade-level at school," said Helen. "Both Daria and HJ are very competitive. Both of them are constantly competing to make better grades. I think Daria has the edge since she focuses on her schoolwork, but HJ is also competitive with sports."

"Does she have any of the what'you-call-it?" said Petunia.

"Not so far as I know of," said Helen. "If she does, I'm sure she'll tell me."

HJ wasn't too sure of that. Despite the fact that his cousin had staked her turf as the scholar of the family and thought of HJ as the family magician, HJ thought Daria had more magic than she was willing to admit to.

"And, uh, Quinn?" said Petunia.

"Just a case of terminally cute and a pest," said HJ.

"HJ!" Helen said reprovingly. "Don't talk about Quinn that way!"

"I don't think she does," said HJ.

The waiter arrived with the entrees. The male Dursley tucked in immediately, to Helen's disapproval. She tried to talk to Petunia, but even her attempt to start a conversation about something as innocuous as the weather proved fruitless.

Vernon stepped in after he demolished his main course. "Petunia told me that it was still warm in November the one time she came to your Texas," he said.

"Yes, it's usually like that," said Helen. "It doesn't really start to get cold until December."

"So you've never seen a real winter, have you?" said Vernon.

"I grew up in Virginia," said Helen. "I also spent a couple of years in Iowa after I graduated from college. I think I have an idea as to what winter can be like."

Helen tried to ask Dudley about his school and got a non-committal answer. Petunia claimed that he did study, but that the teachers were biased against him. Helen disbelieved her; Dudley looked to be about as mentally slothful as he was physically lazy.

Desert came and went. Helen learned that Vernon occasionally played golf, which she supposed would give him something to talk about should he ever meet Jake. Otherwise she thought they lived boring, insular lives and she was glad that HJ hadn't grown up with them.

Vernon finished his coffee about the same time that Dudley completed demolishing his second dessert. "Well, this has all been very interesting, but we really ought to be going," said Vernon. "We have a train to catch and we'd best be on the right platform on time." He flagged down the waiter and asked for the check.

"So what are your plans for tomorrow?" said Petunia.

"We have a private excursion set for tomorrow morning, then we take a red-eye flight back to the US," said Helen. "If you want, I'll tell you about it later."

 _Something secret and having to do with hocus pocus_ , thought Vernon. Petunia's great aunt made him uneasy. True, she was a bit mental, but she was also very, very clever.

The waiter returned a few minutes later with the bill, the maître d' and a frown. "Mister Dursley, there seems to be a problem with your credit card," said the maître d, "It's been declined."

"Blast it, I pay my bills and my credit is good!" Vernon began.

"You might have been hacked," said Helen. "If some of the shops you deal with use those old carbon forms, some Identity thief could have copied down your numbers and then went to town on your money. It happens."

Petunia's great aunt acted like she was taking it in stride. _Probably because she came from a part of the world that gave so little respect to law and order,_ he thought. _They also had cattle drives and shoot-outs on the streets._

"I'll take care of it," said Helen, "My card is still good," Vernon thought about it, then resentfully handed the cheque over to Helen. She handed her card to the waiter and told him to try hers.

The maître d' returned with a smile on his face _. Of course the dratted woman's card got approved,_ Vernon thought sourly.

Helen took the receipt and thanked the waiter. The adults rose and then started shaking hands.

"Well, I'm so glad that I got to see you again and finally meet your family," said Helen with a smile.

"Yes, it was a lovely dinner," said Petunia with a smile of her own.

"Perhaps we can do it again the next time we're all in the same area," said Helen.

 _Or not_ , thought both women.

Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer

 _The Scarecrow of Romney March_ (also called Scarecrow) was a live-action Disney television series about late 18th century highwaymen set along the southern coast of England. In this AU, at least part of the series became a book aimed at young readers.


	29. The Potter Estate

HP Morgendorffer The Potter Estate

DISCLAIMER: _Harry Potter_ is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling, Warner Brothers, and Wizarding World. _Daria_ is the creation of Glen Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. I own neither franchise. I also don't own the rights to the lyrics or melody of Magical Mystery Tour, either. I neither expect or deserve any financial reward for this work; I am writing for my own amusement and ego gratification.

I would like a little ego gratification. How about writing and posting a positive review?

 _Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer_

Helen and HJ got a surprise when they stepped outside their hotel the next morning: it was cold and windy. "We'd better dress warmly," said Helen. "It's likely to be chilly where we're going." They went back to their hotel room and put on warm clothing. Both Harry and Helen put on knitted caps; it was a little too cold for baseball caps and the knitted cap covered his scar.

They walked over to the Leaky Cauldron after a hot breakfast at their hotel. HJ had decided that the Cauldron was cool. He made a note to himself that when he came back to Britain to go to Hogwarts, he was going to have at least one breakfast over there.

The Cauldron already had the morning crowd Helen had gotten used to, but also a clutch of loud, noisy American tourists. Helen guessed that they had to be wizards and witches; she couldn't imagine a crowd of No-Maj tourists finding their way through the Cauldron's doorway, even if the tour guide had been a witch or squib. Helen was amused to see that the tour group looked and acted like American tour groups anywhere: loud, noisy, occasionally rude. The similarity was underlined by their choice of clothing. Most of them eschewed traditional English wizarding wear; instead they dressed in cold-weather gear that looked like it came right off the shelf from Eddie Bauer or LL Bean. Studying them more carefully, Helen noticed one difference from their No-Maj counterparts: most of them had wand-holsters.

HJ was as amused as Helen. "These guys are more fun than the Dursleys," he said, grinning.

Helen said nothing but smirked in agreement.

A woman tugged on Helen's sleeve. "Excuse me," she said. "But what's your shoe size?"

"I'm a size nine," said Helen.

"Oh, thank God!" said the woman. The woman had a mid-Atlantic accent, probably from New Jersey or one of New York's other suburbs.

"Can I ask you a **_big_** favor? Like we flew in last night and I opened my suitcase and realized that I'd forgotten my hiking boots. I feel really _dumb_. All I've got are these city shoes. Could I copy yours?"

"If you think they'll fit," said Helen.

"I'm _desperate_ ," said the American witch. "We're supposed to move on in a coup of minutes. Are these still new or have you broken them in?"

"I'm still breaking them in," said Helen. She'd bought them at an outdoor supply store in Austin a week ago and this was the first time she wore them. She took off her boots and placed them on the floor. She watched with amusement as the witch used a Gemino spell to make a duplicate pair. The witch then reholstered her wand. Helen reached for her originals, the witch reached for the copied pair and both women began putting on their boots.

"Thanks, sweetie! You're a doll!" said the witch. "What's your name?"

"I'm Helen," said Helen.

"What a coincidence!" said the witch. "I'm Helen, too!"

"Cute kid!" said Helen-the-witch, noticing HJ. "What's his name?"

"I'm HJ," said HJ.

"Nice to meet cha," said Helen-the-witch, extending her hand.

She might have said more but then a man with a British accent, presumably the tour guide, raised his voice and asked members of the Magical Mystery Tour Group to gather around so they could depart for their first destination.

A couple of bar keeps moved some of the benches and tables away and the American tourists gathered around what Helen guessed had to be a port-key.

"All right, everyone gather around the port-key and we'll begin the count-down!" said the tour guide. The Americans all gathered around the port-key, trying to make sure that they all had a grip when it would vanish. The tour guide began the count down and the tour group enthusiastically joined in.

"TEN!"

"NINE!"

"EIGHT!"

"SEVEN!"

"SIX!"

"FIVE!

"FOUR!"

HJ enthusiastically joined in the count down, but Helen pulled him back. "You're not going with them!" she admonished.

"THREE!"

"TWO!"

"ONE!"

The tour group and port-key began spinning around and then vanished, leaving a clear space in the Cauldron. Helen checked her wrist watch; it was time for her and HJ to go over to Gringott's to meet their escorts.

Still in a good mood, Helen and HJ walked towards the back wall to wait for someone to open the entryway to Diagon Alley. They didn't have to wait long. A large woman with a couple of crates of live chickens joined them, pulled out her wand, then tapped the correct bricks in the right pattern. HJ and Helen picked up a crate of the woman's chickens and carried it to the other side of the barrier.

"Thanks, Love," said the woman.

It took little time to walk to Gringotts. Griphook was waiting for them in the lobby, along with two wizards and a witch.

"Greetings, Master Griphook," said Helen, greeting the Goblin. "May your gold increase and your enemies tremble."

"Greetings, Madam Morgendorffer," said Griphook, "and Master Potter."

The magical humans' eyebrows raised as they realized just who was with the American woman.

"You're two minutes late, but far more timely than most of our clientele."

"Sir," Helen said neutrally. _Let the guy make of it what he would_.

"Your—expedition," said Griphook with a bit of amusement. "I have three very trustworthy people. They're reliable and have been vetted." A witch and two wizards stood not far from Griphook, as if waiting for something.

"How do you do, Madam? I'm Dylan Jones," said the wizard Helen guessed was the leader of her security detachment. "This is Maria Reed, and this bloke is Don Williamson; he'll be our curse-breaker in case one is needed."

"How do you do, Mr. Jones?" said Helen. "Call me Helen." Helen greeted the other magicals, then introduced Harry. The Magicals' eyebrows rose when Helen gave them HJ's real name, and they all made it a point to shake his hand.

"Excuse me, Madam, but where's your wand?" asked Jones.

"I don't have one," said Helen. "I'm a Squib. I do work for Gringotts, but I don't need a wand for my line of work."

"I see," said Jones, who probably _**didn't**_ see. Helen didn't feel like enlightening him.

"So where do you wish to go?" asked Mr. Jones. Helen wondered if he thought she wanted to see giants or dragons.

"We're heading for the Potter Estate," said Helen.

"The safe house?" Jones asked. "If that's where you're going, you don't really need us to go there. That's a famous and well-trafficked site."

"No," said Helen. "The Potter Estate, not the safe house. Harry owns the property and I think we both ought to see it."

"Oh," said Jones. He looked thoughtful. "Still, I wouldn't expect any problems if we go there."

"I don't expect trouble," said Helen. "But I want to be prepared, just in case."

"I don't expect any trouble either," said Jones, "so if you don't object, I'd like to add a fourth member to my team: Lisa Goodwin. She's a recent hire just starting our training program. This would be good experience for her. You wouldn't mind, would you?"

"Not at all," said Helen. "As long as she can take care of herself."

"So what do you want from us?" asked Jones.

"I'd like you all to form a sort of security perimeter to see if there are any unfriendly people hanging around," said Helen. "I'd like Mr. Williamson to scout out any paths Harry and I might want to take."

"To search out any jinxes or curses that might be on the house and grounds," said Jones.

"Well, yes," said Helen.

"I didn't think any Muggle-borns would know of such things," said Jones.

"Well, even Muggles have heard of booby-traps," said Helen.

Upon hearing the term, Ms. Goodwin's expression changed to one of alarm and she protectively covered her chest with her left arm.

Mr. Williamson took in Ms. Goodwin's reaction and sighed. "New trainee," he said.

The party stepped outside onto the street. Helen took Mr. Jones's hand, HJ took Ms. Reed's. They apparated directly to an overgrown area which might have been a well-tended lawn at one time, but was now overgrown with weeds. There was a bare area with a few steps and ruined stonework, but no living trees nearby. A few trees still stood near a tumbled-down stone gate.

"The Potter Estate," said Mr. Jones, letting go of Helen's hand. He and Ms. Reed started scanning the perimeter, then began to move forward. Mr. Williamson and Ms. Goodwin started forward. Harry moved to join them.

"HJ Morgendorffer, what did I tell you about fools and angels?" said Helen.

"Fools rush in where angels fear to tread," HJ replied irritably.

"Is it safe?" Helen called out.

"It's safe," said Mr. Williamson.

Helen and HJ began to move forward.

Helen frowned. She could already tell that this was a ruin and she and HJ hadn't even reached the Mansion. This must have been a pleasant place once. Glancing around, Helen was reminded of her parents' place in Virginia. They'd lived in what had been a stately house and grounds for what had been a large farm in antebellum Virginia. It hadn't been as large as the Barksdale plantation house in Mississippi that had been burned by Union troops, but it had been a large house, much larger than many of her friends lived.

As she and HJ drew closer, Helen could see that the Potter mansion had been given the same treatment as the Barksdale plantation house back in Mississippi. There was nothing standing of the mansion itself except some stone steps and some fire-blackened stone walls. There were no trees growing near what must have been the house itself, although a few shrubs now grew in what might have been hedges or pathway. The latter looked like they must have sprouted after the house had burned.

Helen scowled as she walked around the ruined house. _Bastards,_ she thought. _Bastards_. Old feelings bubbled to the surface. She thought she'd dealt with the feelings she'd had when she'd learned that Union troops had burned the Barksdale mansion in Mississippi during the Civil War: she'd told herself that her ancestors had not only been secessionists, but slave-owners, too, but she again felt the old anger. The Potters had been good guys; they hadn't deserved this. The people who'd torched the Potter Mansion hadn't been Union troops acting to crush the Confederacy, but vicious murderers and terrorists.

"Mind your step," said Mr. Williamson. "You don't want to fall in. Helen and HJ walked past what had been the house's exterior walls to the edge of what had been the cellar. They looked down; there was nothing there except a large pool of stagnant water and some debris poking just above the surface.

Helen and HJ looked at it a long time. "Bastards," muttered HJ. He looked nervously at Helen, thinking that his step-mother might call him out for using bad language, but she only squeezed his shoulder.

Both of them turned away from the ruined cellar. "I'd like to see some of the grounds and gardens, if there's anything left of them," said Helen.

"That should be safe," said Mrs. Reed. Together they set down what looked like an overgrown pathway leading to a cleared area.

HJ spotted something carved into one of the paving stones along the path to what looked like a sunken garden: a poisonous snake slithering out of the mouth of a human skull. "What's that?" said HJ.

"That's the mark of the Death Eaters," said Mrs. Reed. "That's _**His**_ mark." No doubt who the "he" was, thought HJ. It was the guy who killed his parents.

 _Bastards_ , he thought.

"The people who burned the house and destroyed some of the trees didn't bother with the garden," said Mr. Jones. "Some of the plants could be whipped into shape."

"Anything like Mandrakes?" asked Helen.

"Fortunately no," said Mr. Jones. "America is lucky that you chose the path of the light, Madam. You have an evil imagination."

HJ looked thoughtful as he scanned the grounds of his inheritance.

"Now that Mister Dumbledore no longer controls my estate, what are you going to do with it?" said HJ. "Are you going to sell it?"

"No, HJ," said Helen. "I'm going to keep it for you and then when you're a man, you can decide whether to rebuild or not."

"Oh," said HJ. Helen saw that he had tears in his eyes. She put his arm on his shoulder for support.

They stood there a long time; Mr. Jones and Ms. Reed occasionally glancing around to see if the grounds had any other visitors. Finally, HJ blinked and then sighed.

"I wanna go home," he said.

-(((O-O)))-


	30. Daria's Toy Story

DISCLAIMER Daria is the creation of Glen Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. Harry Potter and its characters are the creations of JK Rowling and are the property of JK Rowling, Universal, and Wizarding World. I own neither franchise. Nor do I expect or deserve financial compensation for this work of fiction. I am writing for my own pleasure and ego gratification.

Please gratify the author and write a nice review.

Harry Potter Morgendorffer: A Toy Story

Daria Morgendorffer didn't do many sleep-overs. She wasn't that popular with her peers: most kids thought that she was weird. It wasn't just that she read a lot, or that she made her dolls do weird things like being a school librarian instead of being prom queen or ninja assassin instead of being a cheerleader, but that she thought that a lot of the things her schoolmates thought about were dumb, and wasn't afraid of saying so.

Daria did even fewer sleepovers with wizarding folk. There weren't all that many living around Ruskin, and not many of those knew that her family was magical and that she was in the loop. Still, she'd managed to impress Martha Sanger, one of the MACUSA-approved sitters her parents hired when they went on date night, but also Martha's cousin Karen, a girl around Daria's age. So much so that she and Karen became friends.

Not that they became close. Karen already knew that she was a witch, and so far as both girls knew, Daria was either a Squib or a Muggle. That Daria couldn't do magic wasn't that much of a problem; Daria already knew about magic and Karen was too young to possess a wand. It also helped that Daria could recognize magic and magical creatures at least as well as many witches two or three times her age.

Karen also knew that the Morgendorffers had a cousin named HJ who lived with them and whom both Daria and her younger sister Quinn saw as a brother. HJ was related to Mrs. Morgendorffer somehow, although she didn't know the details.

Not that she thought much of HJ one way or another. HJ was a guy, and Karen didn't see the male tribe as being that interesting. She did know of a couple of girls who were already thinking about boyfriends, but she wasn't one of them. As far as she was concerned, boys were obnoxious, gross, and uncouth whether they were wizards or not. HJ might be a wizard, he might be OK for a guy, but he was definitely one of _them_.

Daria, for her part, liked Karen. She was smart, friendly, curious about the No-Maj world and lacked the snobbery that some wizards and witches her age were already showing. The Sangers also weren't people to wave their magic in people's faces, which was something for which Daria was secretly grateful. Although the Sangers weren't compulsive neatniks, they kept their magical books, tools, and supplies carefully stowed away and out of sight of any passing No-Maj visitor.

Today, though, Mrs. Sanger had left a couple of boxes of what looked like childrens' toys out in the breakfast room. "What are those?" asked Daria.

"We're having a toy drive," said Karen. "My older sister and I are gathering up things we don't play with anymore to give to kids who don't have anything."

"Can't you just give to Goodwill or something?" asked Daria.

"Nope," said Karen. "A lot of these toys are magical. We're trying to keep it secret."

"Doesn't HJ have some stuff he doesn't play with? Maybe he could donate?"

"My cousin had some magical toys, but he lost interest in most of them," said Daria. These days, he's about as happy playing with No-Maj toys that use batteries."

"Anything in particular?" asked Karin.

"Video games, radio-controlled cars, slot cars, typical guy stuff," said Daria. "My dad's trying to get him interested in Legos or model trains, but it doesn't seem to be taking."

"No motorcycles?" said Karen

"I've heard him say that he dreamed about a flying motorcycle a couple of times, but he doesn't want one," said Daria.

"So if you're being raised No Maj, I bet you've never seen anything like this before," said Karen.

"Probably not," said Daria, "at least not if they were meant for girls."

"Let's have a look," said Karen. "I doubt Mom would mind if we're careful and we pack the stuff back in the boxes after we're done."

Curious, the girls started opening the boxes and pulling things out. There were some No-Maj toys that Daria had seen before; she set them aside as boring.

There were some things that weren't. "Interesting," said Daria with a smile. "What's this? I've never seen anything quite like it." It was a green-skinned hag standing over a cauldron and using a stirrer as big as a canoe paddle.

"Oh, those," said Karen, rolling her eyes. "They used to be popular when Tina was a kid." Tina was Karen's older sister.

"How do you make it work?" said Daria.

"You make it work by concentrating and think about it working," said Karen. She passed her hand over it, the hag started cackling, then started stirring whatever was in the cauldron.

Daria knew that there were similar toys out in the larger world, but none of them were—quite—like this.

"Can I try it?" she said.

"Go ahead," said Karen, "But don't get too upset if they don't work for you. You're a Squib, aren't you?"

"Yeah," said Daria.

Still, she liked the hag and the cauldron. Maybe she could get it to work. She looked at the toy, then closed her eyes and concentrated. Just as it did for Karen, the hag started cackling, then began stirring its cauldron.

"Whoa," said Karen. "I didn't think you could do that."

"I didn't think I could either," said Daria.

"Let's try a couple more of these," said Karen. The girls started going through a couple of the other boxes and setting out a couple more toys that Karen knew were magical. One of them was a toy wand.

Daria recognized it. In case she'd forgotten, it had the words Special Agent raised on its handle. "Is this the one kids for Aurors and Robbers?" she said.

"Yep," said Karen. "I'm surprised you know about that one."

"HJ used to tease me with one," said Daria. "I'd be trying to read or something and then he'd start shooting cotton balls at me. I'm glad he got tired of it; it was a pain in the butt."

The bombardments stopped after her Dad had had a long discussion with Mrs. Kettler, their MACUSA social worker. He then laid down the law about wands. He told HJ that he should never, ever point a wand, even a toy one, at people while he was living at home. Daria suspected that Dad's edict probably had something to do with what happened at Buxton Ridge.

Karen was still holding the wand.

"Could I see that, please?" she said.

"Sure," said Karen.

Daria took the wand from Karen, taking care that it wasn't pointing at her. She took aim at the fireplace; sure enough, the wand started firing cotton balls. Daria noted that this time there were no hiccups or false starts; the wand fired off cotton balls as smoothly as HJ's toy wand had done for him.

"Oh, boy," she said, and started worrying.

Daria recognized accidental magic; she'd seen Harry and a couple of other young magicals perform it a couple of times. It was a little disconcerting to see it happen. She also knew that seeing HJ do it made her a little jealous because she couldn't do it. That didn't bug her that much. He was magical, she wasn't. She never thought of herself being a witch; that was not in her game plan. She wanted to become a writer. If she couldn't become a movie director, she wanted to be a screen writer.

"Could I try another one?" said Daria.

Karen handed her another toy, an attractive witch astride a broom.

"I gather it flies?" said Daria.

"You got it," said Karen, fascinated by the fact that her non-magical friend could make these toys work. She didn't think that non-magical people could.

The witch doll rose in the air and started flying in circle. Daria watched the doll in amazement, then started worrying again. Once was an accident, twice was a coincidence, the third time was…(censored!). This was so going to mess with her plans for her life.

Despite her worry about Death Easters, she didn't want magic for herself. She was willing to concede the wizarding world to her cousin and the people who wanted it. In fact, she'd hoped that only HJ had magic.

"Oh, boy," said Daria.

"What?" said Karen.

"I think I'm going to have to talk to Mom," said Daria. ?I also suspect that we probably pack this stuff back up again.

Mrs. Pickett, Karen's Mom, came in when the two girls were just about finished putting the toys away.

"Girls," she said, "you know those toys are for the toy drive," she said.

"I know," said Karen, "but I wanted to show them to Daria. She'd never seen anything like them. I showed her a couple of them, and she could make them work, too."

"She could?" said Mrs. Pickett. "Oh. My."

 _That_ , Daria wrote much later, _was the sound of the dropped shoe hitting the floor._

That afternoon, Mom was alone working on stuff she'd brought home from the office. Daria was grateful that Dad was on the golf course and that HJ and Quinn were with friends.

"Mom," she said.

"What is it, Sweetie?" said Helen.

"We need to talk," said Daria. "There's something I have to tell you…"


	31. Daria's Testing

Harry Potter Morgendorffer: Daria's Testing

DISCLAIMER Daria is the creation of Glen Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. Harry Potter and its characters are the creations of JK Rowling and are the property of JK Rowling, Universal, and Wizarding World. I own neither franchise. Nor do I expect or deserve financial compensation for this work of fiction. I am writing for my own pleasure and ego gratification.

Please gratify the author and write a nice review.

Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer

"Mom," said Daria.

"What is it, Sweetie?" said Helen.

"We need to talk," said Daria. "There's something I have to tell you. I think I might be a witch."

"Why do you say that, Sweetie?" said Helen, becoming alert. Magic, even the talk of magic, always caught her attention. True, her daughter occasionally tried to play mind games, but Helen could tell when she was bluffing and when she was serious. Daria sounded serious.

"I was playing with some magical toys over at Karen's house today and I made them work."

"Hmmm," said Helen.

"This isn't supposed to happen," said Daria, her voice rising. "I'm not supposed to be a witch and they shouldn't work just because wave my hand over them or it I think about it."

"Sweetie, calm down," said Helen. _Speak for yourself, Helen,_ she said to herself. _My G*d, my daughter's a witch._ "Let's not jump to conclusions. We don't know for sure. We'll talk to Mrs. Kettler and then see about getting you tested. You might be a witch, but maybe you aren't."

Helen dialed Mrs. Kettler's number. Mrs. Kettler, unlike many wizards and witches, had a telephone answering service. Helen called her service and asked for either a special appointment or have HJ's regular appointment moved up.

Mrs. Kettler called back and told Helen that she'd see HJ and Daria at a new time.

-(((O-O)))—

A few days later…

Mrs. Kettler rang the doorbell a couple of minutes early. The family easily recognized her; she was a fair skinned woman with graying brown hair, somewhat heavy-set, her figure was on the wrong side of Zaftig. She'd been watching Harry for nearly nine years now, almost since Minerva McGonagall and her friend brought the very young wizard to Austin.

Helen invited her in and asked her to have a seat. Mrs. Kettler then set to the business of interviewing HJ. HJ had had no releases of accidental magic and no problem keeping any accidental magic under wraps. He had had a successful Little League season, but was not looking forward to leave that all behind when he went off to school.

"So no problems, HJ?" she said.

"Nope," said HJ. He'd not used magic on Jake and Helen or on his cousins and he did what he could to keep the magic under wraps.

"So, Helen," said Mrs. Kettler. "Why did you ask for a scheduling change for this month? Is it just scheduling conflicts or did something unusual come up?"

She watched as Helen Morgendorffer took a deep breath and girded herself to say something she thought was important. "The reason I asked for an appointment change is because of my daughter Daria," she said.

Mrs. Kettler pursed her lips for a moment and waited for what Helen was going to say next. Despite the fact that she usually dealt with HJ and the older Morgendorffers, she was acquainted with the Morgendorffers' two natural daughters. The older one, Daria, struck her as being a sane and emotionally well-adjusted young girl. _I wish all of them would be that way_ , she thought wryly, _even though if they were, I'd be out of a job_.

"So what seems to be the problem, Daria?" said Mrs. Kettler. "Are you having any difficulties with Harry's or other children's magic?"

"That's not a problem," said Daria. "My problem is that I'm having trouble dealing with my own magic."

"Beg your pardon?" said Mrs. Kettler. "Your own magic?"

"I think I might be a witch," said Daria. "My friend Karen and I were playing with some magical toys to see how they worked and all three toys worked when I played with them. Karen didn't touch them. I'd have blown it off as being something like static electricity if it only happened once, but it happened three times. I don't think it was coincidence."

"Daria and I think she ought to be tested," said Helen.

"I admit this looks like I'm trying to play for attention," said Daria, "but I'm not. I didn't think I had magic and I thought I was OK with it, and was making plans for living a No-Maj life."

"You don't want to be a witch?" Mrs. Kettler said, a touch of incredulity in her voice.

"Not really," said Daria. "I mean I like some of the cool things trained wizards and witches can do, but I don't think I needed magic to do the stuff I want to do."

"Daria, you know that if you do have magic, it isn't something you can ignore or wish away," said Mrs. Kettler.

"I know," said Daria. "I'm not saying that. I've read some of the material you sent HJ and I don't want to cope with Obscurials or let loose accidental magic on people I care about. If I've got magic, I'll deal. If I don't have magic, I'll be fine. But if I _**do**_ have magic I'd better find out."

The little girl's reaction startled her for a moment. It was surprisingly calm and sane, lacking the panic that many No-Maj parents and children displayed when they discovered that magic was real or the crushing disappointment and histrionics that magical parents and siblings could display when they learned that a child was a Squib.

"So what do you want to do about it?" Mrs. Kettler said indulgently, earning a glare from the older Morgendorffer daughter.

"Get tested," said Daria, "find out if I'm a witch, a Squib, or a flat-out Mundie."

 _I rather doubt you're a Mundie_ , thought Mrs. Kettler. _I strongly suspect that you're a Wild Squib just like your mother._ She knew that Helen Morgendorffer and her father Allen Barksdale had had magical ancestors, but that was some generations ago. Helen Morgendorffer was a wild Squib and her sister Rita was a flat-out Mundie. Moreover, the girl's father Jacob Morgendorffer was also a Mundie from a Mundie family background, which didn't improve little Daria's chances for working magic.

They all probably ought to get this out of the way, and as soon as possible. _I probably ought to refer the girl to a competent healer,_ she thought. MACUSA's social services were far better than those of the Mundie federal government but even some healers could make mistakes.

She thought the girl's notion could be unacknowledged jealousy of her cousin expressing itself by her claiming to have magic, but on the other hand, the girl could well be correct. "All right, then. I can refer you to a specialist and we can have you tested. We can make an appointment. Would that be agreeable Daria, Mrs. Morgendorffer?"

"Yes it would," said Helen. "Would it be someone local or would Daria and I have to floo somewhere in the back of beyond?"

"Local," said Mrs. Kettler. "Irwin Hillier is a reputable healer specializing in this field. He lives in San Antonio and has an office in Alamo Heights. I can get you his card and you can set up an appointment. Would that be agreeable?"

"It would," said Helen. "Daria?"

"Yeah," said Daria.

"All right then," said Mrs. Kettler.

 _This looks easy_ , she thought, _too easy_. That worried her.

-(((O-O)))—

Helen had a talk with Jake that evening.

"Jakey, we have to talk about Daria," she said.

"What about Daria?" said Jake. "I know she's a good kid, but is the school counselor upset again because she doesn't play well with others?"

"Is the school counselor upset again because she doesn't play well with others? That's bureaucratic BS. Daria's a good kid."

"No, Jake," said Helen. "Daria came to me the other day and told me that she's concerned that she might be magical like HJ."

"Oh my God," said Jake. "Our daughter is a_"

"Jake, take some deep breaths and calm down," said Helen. "Our daughter said that she's concerned. She doesn't know for sure, she thinks she might be, and she wants to settle the question one way or another.

"But how, why?" said Jake. "Did she get it from HJ?"

"No," Helen said. "That's _**not**_ how it happens. We've had this conversation before. Magic may be passed down through family lines and sometimes it just pops up unexpectedly. That's how Lily got it."

"Was it that Snape guy that Dumbledore sent by last summer? I bet he caused it!" said Jake. "Euuuwww!" he shivered.

"No, Jake, it wasn't Professor Snape," said Helen. "Daria thinks she might have known even before then."

"But what will she do?" said Jake. "She's just a kid!"

"If she's got magic, she'll survive it," said Helen. "We can send her to school where she can learn to cope with it. We've produced a daughter with a good head on her shoulders and I suspect her odds for surviving adolescence are better than those of some of the normie kids who live around here. I mean just think of those Cooter boys and their skateboards! Most of the witches and wizards we've already talked to have not only survived childhood, but some of them have lived into their hundreds."

"But the dangers!" said Jake.

"Even our part of the real world isn't that safe," said Helen. "Drugs, car crashes, guns, kids doing stupid things. I do worry about Daria and Quinn, but Daria's careful, unlike HJ. I don't see her looking for dragons or trying to catch hoopsnakes."

Jake began to calm down. "But Helen, she's our daughter," he said in a pleading voice.

"I know, Jakey, I know," said Helen. "She's our daughter. I was hoping as much as you were that she'd be able to have a normal life. But that might not be in the cards."

"But this worrying isn't going to do us any good. We don't know yet," said Helen. "That's why I want to go to a specialist with her and have them run some tests."

"Maybe she is a witch, and maybe she isn't."

"And if she is?" said Jake.

"We'll worry about it then and then start planning for it," Helen replied.

-(((O-O)))-

Helen and Daria made the drive from Ruskin to San Antonio a week or so later. The traffic from Ruskin to I-35 wasn't that bad, nor was I-35; since Ruskin was south and not north of Austin. The traffic around San Antonio began to intensify just north of Selma. Helen took US 281 south of Interstate 410 and soon was in Alamo Heights. Dr. Hillier's office was near the edge of the neighborhood.

The street had been residential once upon a time, but over the decades many of the old 1920's bungalows had begun to turn into professionals' offices. Healer Hillier's office was one such: the house was a 1920's bungalow set on a corner but well back from the street. Helen carefully parked her car behind the wooden fence that blocked easy viewing of license plates from the street.

Helen and Daria entered the house through the front door. The house's former parlor was now the waiting area and what might have been the old dining room had been converted to office space and the receptionist's work station. Helen quickly realized that Healer Hillier's examination rooms were in the back. The waiting room was crowded with other f worried parents and their children. It shared the sam atmosphere as No Maj doctor's offices and clinic: an underlying current of fear and worry. The clientele was different: a couple of the patients' parents were clearly magicals; others looked to be squibs or Mundies.

The receptionist presented them with paperwork: the usual name, address, telephone number. Helen noted that there wasn't a place for e-mail yet. There were blanks for the names of the patients' physicians and boxes to fill if the patient was a magical or a squib. There was also a space especially for squibs: name of closest known magical relative. Daria handed the forms to Daria and told her to fill out as much of the form as she could.

Daria started filling out what paperwork she could.

"Do I put HJ's name here?" asked Daria.

"No, Sweetie," said Helen, "you put down Cousin Lily's name."

Helen watched as Daria wrote Lily Evans Potter in the appropriate space.

 _And Katie bar the door_ , thought Helen. _Listing Lily Potter's name was sure to attract attention_.

Helen proof-read the forms, filled in the questions for which Daria had no answers, then handed them back to the receptionist. "Thank you, said the receptionist. "Please make yourselves comfortable."

"What do we do now?" said Daria.

"Take a seat and wait until they call us," said Helen.

Daria frowned and sat down. If she'd had her druthers, she really didn't want to be here. "It's going to be all right," Helen said reassuringly. "Just relax and it'll soon be over."

Just then, the young girl with one of the magical parents started making a scene. "Mom, can't we just go home?" she said "I don't want to be here!"

"I'm sorry, Darlie, but we need to consult with Healer Hillier," said the mother.

"But I don't WANT to be a Squib!" shouted Darlie.

"We don't know that," said Darlie's mother. "You may have magic, it might be tucked away somewhere and maybe Healer Hillier will find a way to bring it out."

"Or maybe he can't or won't and I'll be a Squib!" said Darlie. She said it like it was the most horrible thing that could happen to her.

 _I'll trade you_ , thought Daria, despite the fact that she knew such a swap was impossible.

"We don't know that," said Darlie's mother. "But things are as they are and I'll love you anyway."

"Can't you do anything?" said Darlie.

"I'm sorry, dear, it's out of my hands," her mother replied.

Helen had been listening despite her attempts to distract herself with a pamphlet written for No-Maj parents with magical children. She sighed. _It's out of my hands,_ she thought. She put her arm around her daughter.

The door to the examination rooms opened a little while later, and one of Healer Hillier's aides stepped out.

"Miss Morgendorffer, Mrs. Morgendorffer?" she said.

 _Well, here goes_ , thought Helen and Daria.

They entered the office. Healer Hillier's examination room was much larger than the small, relatively cramped examination rooms Helen had seen at clinics and doctors' offices. Helen looked around at the arcane objects neatly stored on some shelves as well as at the large flat crystal sitting on a square cart next to an examination couch. Helen thought it looked like a mash-up between a Mundie doctor's examination room and a palm-reader's parlor.

Healer Hillier introduced himself and asked Helen and Daria to take a seat. They sat and waited while he read through their forms.

"Was Lily Evans Potter really your cousin?" asked Healer Hillier.

"Yes," said Daria.

"Her cousin, my grand-niece," said Helen. "My father had a fling with her maternal grandmother back in 1939. I didn't think it was likely until I took a goblin blood test."

"It sounds barely possible," said Healer Hillier.

"It was," said Helen. "My father was a young diplomat working for the US government in Britain, and Lily Evans' grandmother was working nearby. He was sent home before the Battle of Britain, and Lily's grandmother married somebody else."

"Oh," said Hillier.

"Do you have any magic yourself, Ma'am?" asked Hillier.

"I am what a lot of people call a wild Squib," said Helen.

"So you can't work magic yourself," said Healer Hillier.

"At least I don't think I can," said Helen, "although last year I made a couple of prophecies, which is not something most squibs are capable of doing."

"Can I ask what those prophecies are about?" asked Healer Hillier.

"I would say no," said Helen. "The individual in question is a major client of Gringott's, my employer, and I consider it privileged information."

"You may consider getting re-tested," said Hillier.

"I'm not really interested in tweaking my magical abilities," said Helen. "I'm doing well enough with the way things are right now. I'm more interested in helping my daughter find out whether she's a wild Squib like me or if she's an actual witch."

"All right," Dr. Hillier said placatingly. "Point made."

"Now Daria, why is it do you think you might be a witch?"

"Well, it started when I was looking at magical toys with my friend Karen a couple of weeks ago. I looked over three of them and they started working. I'd seen this happen before with a couple of my cousin HJ's toys, but I thought it was something like static electricity, some sort of left-over magical charge…"

"Was this the first time this happened?" asked Hillier.

"No," said Daria. "I have a magical cousin and it happened a few times with a couple of his toys."

"Did you tell your parents?" asked Hillier.

"No," replied Daria. "I thought it was a residual charge and I didn't think it was that big a big deal."

Hillier looked disapprovingly at Helen.

"Excuse me," said Helen, "I was not trying to suppress her magic. If she had any, I thought she'd tell me. I think she has."

"Well let's start the tests," said Hillier.

"Miss Morgendorffer, could I ask you to stand over there, please," he said, pointing at a clear space in the examination room. He then went to his shelves, picked up what looked like a wooden hoop carved with runes, pointed his wand at the center of it and muttered some sort of incantation that Helen didn't catch. He then walked around Daria, gently waving his hoop around the young girl at a decorous six inches from physical contact, then set it down.

"Hmm," he said, sounding interested. "Let's be sure. It's always best to have confirmation."

Helen could feel the magical forces Healer Hillier was using. A thought strayed into her mind: would that clot her great-niece Petunia married be able to sense it? She doubted it.

"Could you remain where you are, please?" Hillier said to Daria. Daria grudgingly complied.

He touched his wand to a crystal he had placed on his desk. The crystal lit up in a bright, deep, aquamarine, then projected a broad beam at Daria. Helen could see her daughter's physical form and also a bright form inside and around her glowing in the same color.

"Hmm," said Hillier. "Good, good." He sounded pleased.

"Alright, the final test," he said. He opened a drawer and handed Daria a wand.

"Is this a real wand?" asked Daria.

"It is," said Healer Hillier.

"I've handled a couple of them," said Daria. "Most of them don't like me."

Healer Hillier's eyebrows raised, but he said nothing.

"First, point that wand at that wall over there and give it a wave," he said. Unlike the other walls in the examination room, the wall was bare. Helen wondered if what looked like a sheet-rocked wall was backed by Kevlar or steel plating.

Daria waved the wand and a bolt shot out and hit the wall. Fortunately, it did not bounce off.

"Interesting," said Hillier. "You can put the wand down. Let's try something else." He picked up a wooden stool and set it next to the bare wall. He then picked up what looked like an ordinary volley-ball and set it on the stool. He then walked back to his desk, handed Daria another wand and said "Take this wand, wave it at the ball, and try to make it rise."

Helen caught Daria's dubious expression. Daria had made no secret of the fact that she hated both dodgeball and volleyball. "Whatever," she growled.

Daria took the wand, waved it at the volleyball, which rose and then exploded.

The noise caused reactions outside as well as inside the office. One of Healer Hillier's aides knocked on the door, then opened it. "Sir, is everything all right?"

"It's fine, don't worry," Hillier said reassuringly. "Just another Wilson biting the dust."

"Well, _that_ was dramatic," said Hillier, trying to make light of what had just happened. "I read that in the old days, healers used to use stone balls for this sort of test. This is a bit noisier but cheaper."

"Well," he said. "I think that settles it."

"Mrs. Morgendorffer, your daughter's suspicion is correct," he said with a smile. "Congratulations, Madam Morgendorffer, Miss Morgendorffer. I'm happy to inform you that your daughter is a witch."

Daria scowled. "This is not what I had in mind for my life." she said.

-(((O-O)))—

Author's notes:

Hoopsnake: a mythical creature from American folklore, much like a viper but with a poisonous stinger on its tail and the added ability to roll like a hoop after its prey. Hoopsnakes strike me as the sort of magical creature that would adapt wonderfully to paved roadways.

Mundie: From the term Mundane, a term used by members of the Society for Creative Anachronism to describe ordinary folks, particularly those not in costumes at Renaissance Fairs and SCA events. In this AU, the term has been appropriated and modified by wizarding folk, gradually supplanting the term No-Maj.


	32. Daria's A WHAT?

HPM Darias Testing Aftermath

DISCLAIMER: _Daria_ and its characters are the creations of Glen Eichler and are the property of MTV Viacom. _Harry Potter_ is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling, Warner Brothers, and Wizarding World. I own neither franchise. Also, I neither expect nor deserve financial compensation for this work of fiction. I am writing for my own amusement and ego gratification.

WARNING: Rated "T" for language. Someone is very upset.

Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer

"This is not what I had in mind for my life," she said. "I don't want to be a witch."

"Sweetie, I love you no matter what you are," said Helen. She did the only thing she could think of doing and gave her daughter a hug.

-(((O-O)))-

Helen had scheduled Daria's appointment with Healer Hellier for the late morning. Daria's session had proved surprisingly brief, at least compared to some of the appointments she and her daughters had had with No-Maj physicians. Still, it was around noon, and Helen thought it was time to do something about lunch. She did make a short phone call to Jake, telling him that she and Daria were all right, that they'd have lunch down in San Antonio, then set back for Ruskin.

A Greek restaurant along Broadway caught her attention while she was counting down the blocks before she had to turn right on Nacodoches. "This looks good," she said. She turned right just after it, circled a couple of blocks, then pulled into the restaurant's modest-sized parking lot. Despite it being lunch hour, their wait wasn't that long and they were seated at a booth along the far wall.

The Greek restaurant had Greek food and murals depicting scenes in the real Greece but lacked a certain authenticity. The waiters were Anglo-Americans and the girl at the cash register was Latina. Helen had a salad with Feta cheese, olives, and anchovies while Daria had a child-sized Moussaka. Helen briefly thought of how her Goblin bosses would react to her meal. Her carnivorous employers would probably call it rabbit food.

She turned her attention back to her daughter. Daria looked down at the table with a scowl.

"I'm sorry that the tests didn't go the way you hoped it would, Sweetie," said Helen.

Both of them looked around the restaurant. The people behind them had just left and the bus boy had just finished wiping down the table after clearing the glasses, plates, and silverware, so they had a moment of privacy.

"So am I," said Daria. "I don't _want_ to be a witch."

"I know you're disappointed, Sweetie, but sometimes life takes us in unexpected directions," said Helen.

"Tell me about it," Daria replied sarcastically.

"I don't think I need to," said Helen. "I think you know already."

"I know you don't like this, but things aren't all bleak," said Helen. "Even with that boarding school in Massachusetts, you still have a good shot at going to college and nothing should stop you from becoming a writer like you want to be."

"I want to become a script writer," said Daria.

"That possibility might still be open, said Helen. "I don't know for sure. Being a writer doesn't attract the media attention that a movie actress or a pop star gets."

Daria thought about disagreeing, then thought about the sorts of trouble a movie star could get into if some nosy reporter found out about her magical education.

"There is that," she conceded.

Helen didn't drive straight home to Ruskin but drove to her office at Gringotts Southwest to pick up paperwork. She warned Daria that a couple of her magical co-workers might guess her new status. Daria wanted to keep quiet, but Helen warned her that that approach wouldn't work.

"You might have to tell them, Sweetie," she said.

"Oh, Goody," Daria said sarcastically.

"Also, the lobby's closed for a holiday, so we'll have to come back here to open up an account."

"Hmmm," Daria said irritably.

HJ was the next resident of Schloss Morgendorffer to learn about Daria's new status; Quinn having gone over to play at a neighbor's.

"How did the testing go?" he asked.

Daria shot him a glare and walked past him without saying anything. She opened the back door and sat down on one of the wooden chairs out on the patio, something she did when she wanted to be alone.

"Mom, how did it go with Daria?" said HJ. "Is she all right?"

"She's fine," said Helen. She sighed. "She didn't like the test results."

"I can see that," said HJ. "Is she or isn't she?"

"She is," said Helen. "And her life has just gotten more complicated. You might have company when you go off to Hogwarts."

 _That would be cool_ , thought HJ. He already knew some stuff about Hogwarts. Helen and Jake had already taken him to a couple of mixers and he'd met a couple of expat Hogwarts students. They'd warned him not to get his hopes up about him getting into the same house with Daria if she was a witch. Brothers and sisters could have different mind-sets, and even if he and Daria went to Hogwarts, they could be sorted into different houses.

He decided to give Daria some time to simmer down, then he opened the back door and went out to the patio. Daria was glowering at the flower bed over by the back fence.

He pulled up a chair and sat down not next to her, but near her. Once in a while Daria could be in a real pissy mood. This looked like one of those times.

"What do you want?" she said.

"Mom said you got tested," said HJ.

"I thought you'd be celebrating or something," said Daria.

"I thought you'd be happy," said HJ. "I mean look at the cool things you can do with magic."

"I'm not," said Daria. "I want to be a famous writer and this is a big pain in the neck."

"There is such a thing as a pen-name," said HJ. "I mean Samuel Clements wrote as Mark Twain."

"Smart-Ass," Daria replied.

"And we've got better-than-even chances of living to become grown-ups," said HJ.

"Hmm," said Daria.

They sat companionably in silence, Daria thinking her own thoughts, HJ doing what he hoped was showing moral support. After a while, Daria got up and went back inside.

Quinn came back from the Kittricks' a short time later. Mom didn't spring the news right then and there, but told Quinn that there'd be a family discussion at dinner.

Quinn went up to her room. Jake came home about fifteen minutes later and was intercepted by Helen. They then went out to the patio. HJ had already gone back inside.

"Jake, I took Daria down to San Antonio for her tests," said Helen. "There's something important I have to tell you."

-(((O-O)))-

"Oh my God!" said Jake. "My little girl is a witch! How could this happen?"

"I don't know, Jakey," said Helen, temporarily at a loss for words. "I thought that my family had put the wands away over a hundred years ago. The last thing I expected was for it to come back to my part of the family even with HJ living under our roof."

"Did HJ do something to her?" said Jake. He immediately regretted saying it; Mrs. Kettler and other MACUSA social workers had told him over and over again that while magic might run in families, it wasn't something given from one person to another, it was something that was there probably before Daria was even born.

"No," Helen said firmly, "it must have been something that Daria must have had all along, and neither we nor she knew about it. It's probably only now becoming apparent." _Or we saw it and either overlooked it or weren't paying attention,_ she thought to herself.

"You're right," said Jake. "Sometimes I feel things and my mouth runs away with me and I say things I'm sorry for. But my little girl, I love her so much and I'm so scared for her!"

"But that world is so dangerous!" said Jake. "Suppose some kid points his wand at her and tries to turn her into a frog!"

"That kid's going to only have one shot and have to be really good," said Helen. "Otherwise he'll have to start pricing out his own lily pads."

"I love our little girl and I'm worried for her too," said Helen. "But I'm not frightened: Daria is thoughtful and careful. I think she's got at least as good a chance of making to adulthood as most kids around here. Her chances might even be better."

"Speaking of which, sometimes I wish that HJ would follow her example."

"HJ's a guy," said Jake.

"Who could stand to learn to be a little more careful," said Helen. "Daria will be fine."

Jake trusted his wife's judgment about his daughter. Despite his worry and his lingering fear, he suspected that she'd be right.

"Well, it'll be dinnertime soon and we'll have to talk to the children," said Helen. She opened the freezer and started pulling out lasagna dinners.

-(((O-O)))-

Daria saw that Dad had the television remote and started worrying. It looked like there'd be a family discussion at the dinner table. This one would be a bit grim: neither Jake nor Helen had prepared a dinner. It looked like the family fireworks would explode over microwaved lasagna.

Helen began it while the last of the entrees was on their plates and cooling.

"Girls, HJ," she said. "As you know, Daria and I went down to San Antonio to consult with Healer Hillier."

HJ said nothing. He already knew the results.

"So is Daria gonna be a witch, or is she going to be a normie?" said Quinn.

 _Uh, oh,_ thought HJ.

Despite the fact that Daria was three years older than Quinn, the two girls treated each other like rivals. But despite the fact that Daria and Quinn had different interests and coveted different things, sometimes Quinn would want what Daria had, not because Quinn really wanted it, but because it was something Daria had.

"The tests were positive," said Helen. "Your sister is a witch."

"NO!" shouted Quinn. "SHE CAN'T BE A WITCH! I WANT TO BE A WITCH! THAT'S NOT FAIR!"

"Fair has nothing to do with it," said Daria, glaring at her little sister. "You either have it or you don't."

"IT CAN'T BE!" said Quinn. 'I'M THE ONE WHO'S SPECIAL! I'M SUPPOSED TO BE THE WITCH!"

"No," said Helen "Magic doesn't appear just because you want it. You either get it or you don't get it."

"WELL SHE GOT IT AND SHE DIDN'T WANT IT!" said Quinn. "I WANT IT! MOM, MAKE HER GIVE IT OVER!"

"No," said Helen, glaring at her younger daughter. "That's not in my power. But I want you to calm down and behave!"

"NO!" said Quinn. "DARIA, GIVE IT OVER!"

Daria had had enough. "No," she said nastily.

"DARIA, YOU BITCH!" yelled Quinn.

"Quinn," said HJ. "Calm down."

"HJ, YOU JERK! YOU GAVE IT TO HER ON PURPOSE!" shouted Quinn.

"QUINN RENATA MORGENDORFFER, ENOUGH!" shouted Helen. "CORNER, NOW!"

"DAD?" said Quinn.

"You heard her," Jake said sternly. "Corner!"

Quinn looked daggers at Helen, then at HJ and Daria.

 _If looks could kill_ , thought HJ. Mrs. Kettler and some of the social workers that occasionally substituted for her told HJ had not only repeatedly warned HJ and the other Morgendorffers that wizards and witches could release accidental magic in times of extreme agitation or emotion. HJ listened to Quinn's tantrum and tapped Daria's foot. He caught Daria's eye, then looked across the table at Quinn, where Quinn was carrying on about how life was unfair and that she ought to be a witch. HJ gestured at his water glass, shook his head and snickered.

Daria caught what her cousin was saying. _If Quinn was a witch, this tantrum should release enough magic to level the neighborhood._ She started giggling.

"MOM!" yelled Quinn. "THEY'RE TALKING ABOUT ME! MAKE THEM STOP!"

HJ heard Quinn's latest, and started chortling.

"STOP IT!" shouted Quinn.

"HJ, Daria, behave," said Jake.

The telephone rang a couple of minutes later. Helen got up to answer it. Silence temporarily ruled at the Morgendorffer dinner table.

"Jake," said Helen. "It's for you."

Jake got up to answer the telephone. Both parents distracted, Daria leaned over to whisper "Welcome to the Enchanted Corner Hour!" in HJ's ear.

It was too much. HJ started chortling

"SHUT UP!" said Quinn.

-((O-O)))-

After the kids had been sent to bed, Helen and Jake decided to resume discussing the consequences of Daria's testing.

"We'll have to send her to school with HJ!" said Jake. "That's going to cost like hell! The combined fees and tuition for both of them will eat us alive!"

"Jake, we don't have to worry about paying HJ's tuition and fees," said Helen. "He's already covered. That money will come out of HJ's trust fund, which is more than adequate to pay for his expenses."

"We'd just have to worry about Daria's tuition, board, and fees," said Jake.

 _And textbooks, and supplies, and uniforms,_ she added to herself.

"It'll be a stretch, but I think we can afford it," said Helen. "Maybe she can go to Hogwarts with HJ." she said.

-(((O-O)))—

They sent a letter off to Hogwarts, using the hybrid courier service developed in recent decades to speed communications without magic mirrors or floos. The reply came back a little over a week later.

" _Dear Madam Morgendorffer,_

" _I must regretfully inform you that your request for your daughter's admission to Hogwarts has been declined. While we acknowledge ties of kinship as well as some of our applicants possessing dual nationalities, it is the policy of the school's Board of Governors to restrict to those children of British or Irish citizenship."_

" _While we must decline your daughter's admittance, we do acknowledge that there are schools in North and Central America where young witches and wizards can obtain a superior magical education. Our loss, their gain._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Minerva McGonagall  
_

 _Deputy Headmistress  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry"_

There was an addenda at the bottom of the page.

" _I'm sorry, Helen, but those are the rules as handed down from above. I regret that I won't see your daughter in the halls of Hogwarts. Your daughter would have been a superior student here and I wish her the best of luck at Ilvermorny or whatever school of magic she chooses to attend._

 _-MMG."_

 _Hellfire and damnation_ , thought Helen.

 _Well, nothing for it_ , she thought, resentful at the Hogwarts Board of Governors' arrogance. Her daughter would go to Ilvermorny.


	33. Fast Cars and Hot Girls

This is a Daria/Harry Potter crossover, based on the idea that Helen Morgendorffer, Daria's mother, is not only a blood relative of Lily Evans Potter, but was willing to take in the young orphaned wizard after his parents were murdered by Lord Voldemort. In this fan-fiction, Harry James (Potter) Morgendorffer is growing up in Ruskin, Texas, a suburb of Austin, Texas.

Disclaimer: _Daria_ is the creation of Glenn Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. _Harry Potter_ is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling and Warner Brothers. I own neither, and neither expect nor deserve financial compensation for this story. I am writing for my own amusement and for ego gratification.

Also, I don't own the rights to The Hardest Part, either. I believe that Debby Harry, her band, and Chrysalis Records still do.

Harry Potter Morgendorffer is written out of order; the events of this chapter occur in August, 1989.

Harry Potter Morgendorffer* Harry Potter Morgendorffer* Harry Potter Morgendorffer

It was no secret that Harry James Morgendorffer, "HJ" to his friends and family, liked sports cars—the faster, the higher-performance, the better. Not that he could do much more than look—being nine years old and being on an allowance drastically limited his options and buying power. Luckily, some of his friends shared his enthusiasm. Even more fortunately, some of his friends' dads or older brothers not only enjoyed car shows themselves but would take HJ and his friends along. Some of them were new models displayed by car manufacturers, others were sports cars owned and lovingly maintained by collectors and enthusiasts. Still, there was a big difference between seeing a sports car while Mom or Dad was driving around town or at a car show and seeing one parked on a street in his neighborhood.

One Saturday morning he was walking over to his friend Jimmy Preston's and one of his dreams came true. Someone had parked a 1989 Pontiac Trans Am in front of the Prestons' house. HJ smiled. This was way cool. He decided to spend a couple of minutes admiring it before he rang Jimmy's doorbell. He first walked around it, the put his hands on its fenders, after which he peered through the tinted glass to admire its interior. He was grateful that Daria wasn't anywhere near him: if she saw him now, she'd accuse him of drooling. He really wanted to get in, turn on the ignition, put his hands on the wheel and take it out on a test-drive.

He tried to open the door. Of course it was locked. _Rats_. Sighing, he turned away, walked up to Jimmy's door, and rang the doorbell. After greeting his friend and his friend's mother, it didn't take long for the conversation to turn to the inevitable.

"Whose car is that?" asked HJ.

"Genelle's," said Jimmy.

"Who's Genelle?" asked HJ.

"Mike's new girlfriend," replied Jimmy.

Jimmy's older brother was in high school and dated. HJ had seen a couple of them; blonde, made-up, hot. Some drove, some didn't. Genelle was one of the ones with her own car.

"Do you think that Genelle would let us get in and take a look?" asked HJ.

Jimmy thought about it. He'd met Genelle and talked to her for a little bit. She treated him with the amused tolerance that older girls treated their boyfriends' younger brothers. "Doubt it," he said. "Besides, they're all at the lake."

 _That sucks_ , thought HJ.

The two boys went upstairs, talked for a while, played video games, thought about homework, and tried not to think about the car. Jimmy's Mom told him that it was his turn to run the vacuum cleaner upstairs, and he and HJ did the stairs and hallways. The chores didn't help; Jimmy's Mom's vacuum cleaner made him think about Genelle's Trans Am.

The boys went back downstairs after they were done. Jimmy's Mom called them over. "Boys, I need to run to the store," she said. "I'll be gone for about an hour. Do you promise to behave?"

"Yes, Mom," said Jimmy.

"Yes, ma'am," said HJ.

They sat down in the living room and Jimmy turned on the big screen TV. Jimmy had cable and they flicked through the channels. Nothing really excited them.

"Mind if I get a drink?" said HJ.

"Sure, go ahead," said Jimmy. HJ got off the couch and started towards the Prestons' kitchen. He walked over to the cabinet where Mrs. Preston kept the glasses, pulled one down, put some ice in it, and then filled it with tap water. _Eau de tap_ , he told himself. _1989, a vintage year_.

HJ started back towards the living room and saw something shiny lying on the carpet. Could it be? _Nope_ , he told himself, but he walked over to pick it up anyway. They were car keys.

"Hey, Jimmy, are these your Mom's or Dad's?" said HJ, dangling the car keys.

"I don't think so," said Jimmy. "Dad and Mom keep their spares upstairs."

HJ thought about the Trans Am parked on the curb outside.

"Wanna know what I think?" said HJ.

"What?" said Jimmy.

"I'll bet you they're Genelle's." said HJ. "Want to find out?"

Jimmy grinned. "Sure," he said.

They went back outside and walked around the Trans Am. Peering through the windows, HJ could feel the metal, the power, the speed. He wondered just how fast it could go.

"The moment of truth," said HJ, holding the car key. "Do you want to do it or should I?"

"You do it," said Jimmy.

HJ inserted the car key into the door lock. The key turned, the door unlocked, and they were in.

"Whoa," said Jimmy.

"Cool," said HJ. The sports car was new enough that it still had that thrilling new-car smell but it also smelled like what HJ decided was girl: a scent of perfume and—ugh—tobacco. He opened the ash tray and saw several cigarette butts with lipstick marks on them. _Yeah, she was a smoker_ , HJ thought with disgust.

It took a little fumbling, but HJ was able to adjust the seats and the mirrors. "Let's get this show on the road. Fasten your seatbelt, Jimmy," said HJ.

"Why?" said Jimmy.

"To be safe," said HJ. "That's what my Mom says."

"You gotta be kidding," said Jimmy.

"Just do it," said HJ.

"Whatever," said Jimmy, rolling his eyes.

"Let's take it for a drive," said HJ.

"You know how to drive?" said Jimmy.

"I think so," said HJ. "I've used those simulators. I'll bet that I'm better than half of the guys who have real driver's licenses."

HJ was way too young to get a driver's license, but he had a lot more experience than kids his parents' age did when they applied for their learners' permits. HJ had put in a lot of time on simulators like the ones they had at the video arcades and also the ones they had at the kid safety fairs. He preferred the ones at the arcades: the better ones, the more realistic ones simulated dirt track or race tracks and he could go as fast as he could go.

Mom tolerated his simulator habit, but often made him use the downer simulators like the ones at the safety fairs. She claimed that those showed real-life driving conditions: ones with crazy pedestrians, idiot drivers, slick roads, and sudden traffic jams. They were the only simulators on the market approved by the insurance companies. He played them, drove well over the speed limit and occasionally spun out, but as far as he was concerned, they were downers. More often than not he'd hit some dog or pedestrian, clip someone else's car, spin out, or get busted by the cops. Game over.

 _Blah_.

His problem with the simulators was that he drove too fast and the programs threw too much at him too fast. But he bet he could drive a real Trans Am if he could keep his speed down.

 _Let's do this_ , he told himself. HJ turned the ignition key and the car started. _Cool_ , he thought. Jimmy's eyes opened wide in astonishment. HJ moved the gear shift into drive. He thanked Whatever that the Trans Am had an automatic transmission. He'd tried driving cars with manual transmissions but had a hard time synchronizing gear shifts with the clutch pedals. If he had to shift gears he'd get caught in no time.

He shifted the car into forward and prepared to drive away from the curb. He was just about to take his foot off the brake pedal when something told him to look in the side view mirror before he moved away from the curb. _Car. Way too close_. If he moved away from the curb now he'd hit it and the stuff would hit the fan.

He turned on the radio. The station the girl had picked was playing Blondie's "The Hardest Part." HJ didn't want to knock over an armored car; his aims were more modest. He just wanted to take this baby on a test drive. He drove down the street. It was a quiet day in the neighborhood without much traffic; a distracted-looking mom returning home from errands, a Mexican yard man with his eyes closed grooving on music at a stop sign, a delivery truck, slightly older kids on bicycles. HJ worried about those guys; his Dad had told him that next to dogs, those were the most unpredictable things he could find on the street.

There was a stop sign at Endor, the next street down. Despite his unfamiliarity with Genelle's ride, HJ slowed down and came to a smooth stop. _Just like a grown-up would do_ , he thought. There was no oncoming traffic and HJ shifted his foot from the brake to the accelerator pedal. The car was a little jerky when he pressed down on the gas pedal. He glanced nervously in the rear view and side mirrors, and despite the fact there were no other moving cars in sight, he hoped nobody noticed.

So far everything was cool, no problem. He took a moment from driving and grinned at Jimmy. It was like the time that he went out to that wizard's ranch and drove around that pasture in a pickup truck, only with more obstacles. He passed Ruddigore but didn't turn right: he was sure Mom would catch him if he turned onto his home street. His confidence began to grow as he grew a little more familiar with the Trans Am's performance. _We might just get away with this_ , he thought. Prematurely, as it turned out.

"Cop car," said Jimmy.

 _Crap_. "I see it," said HJ. HJ so did _not_ want to deal with the cops. The cop car was facing the same way he was. If the cop saw him and Jimmy, he'd have to use his rear or side mirrors. So how could he deal with this?

The best way to avoid cop problems would have been to go down another street and avoid passing the cop car at all. He couldn't do that: the bozos who'd designed his neighborhood so he couldn't take another street over to Enchanted Rock. He'd have to pass the cop car.

 _Think fast, Morgendorffer_ , he told himself. He needed to get past the cop car so they could get back on Enchanted Rock and park the Trans Am and then get clear. The way things were right now, if the cops got a look at him, they'd see him as a nine year-old boy and bust his butt. He looked like a nine year-old boy because he _was_ a nine year old boy. There was no way out, his ass was grass. _Or was it?_ He remembered that sometimes grown-ups occasionally mistook him for a teenaged girl.

 _Was there a way to use that idea on the cops_ , he asked himself. He pulled over to curb and stopped.

"What are you doing?" asked Jimmy.

"Thinking," said HJ. He looked around the front seat and saw nothing except a tube of chap-stick.

"Anything in the back?" he asked.

"One of Genelle's head-bands," Jimmy replied.

"Pass it over," said HJ. "It might save our butts."

Genelle's headband was plastic, shiny and pink. _Definitely girl_ , thought HJ. He gritted his teeth and put it on.

"What the—" asked Jimmy. "Are you trying to turn homo?"

"No," said HJ. "I'm trying to fool the cops. If we can't make them think we're as old as Mike, maybe we can trick them into thinking we're teenage girls."

"You gotta be kidding," said Jimmy. "The cops will never fall for it."

"Only if they give us more than a quick look," said HJ.

"If they bust us, I'll say I told you so," said Jimmy.

" _If_ they bust us," HJ said with more confidence than he felt. He shifted back into Drive, then began to drive towards the cop car. Jimmy didn't share his confidence: he ducked down in his seat and hoped he wouldn't be seen..

HJ remembered that program about the French Revolution on the History Channel. That guy kept saying " _L'Audace, l'Audace, L'Audace, Toujours l'Audace!_ " He didn't want trouble with the cops. Mom would kill him. He felt the fear creeping down his arms and back but _L'Audace_ was all he had.

He was now next to the parked cop car. He drove on, telling himself _Think Girl, Think Girl, Think Girl._ He rolled past it as if he owned the Trans Am and had every business driving in his neighborhood and hoped that the cop wouldn't pay any attention. The cop gave his car a glance and then went back to doing whatever he was doing.

Both he and Jimmy gave big sighs of relief. He stopped at the stop sign and took several deep breaths. The radio station started playing Pete Seeger's _Shakedown_. _Ugh_. He changed channels and discovered that the other station was also playing Blondie.

 _The hardest part  
Of the armored car  
Is the man of steel  
Behind the steering wheel._

"Anybody on my right?" he asked Jimmy, who was still shaken up.

"Jimmy?" he asked again.

"Uh, nobody," said Jimmy.

HJ cast a look to the left to cover his own bases. _Nobody coming_ , HJ said to himself. He glanced to the right. Jimmy was too freaked to pay good attention. He put his foot down lightly down on the gas pedal and turned right. _Too close!_ Fortunately, the tires missed the curb. He sped up a little, noting that if he even tapped the gas pedal the Trans Am wanted to shoot off like a rocket. Another intersection, this one with Yield signs for cross traffic: the Trans Am cleared it. They were back on Enchanted Rock, Jimmy's street. _Not far now_. Just a couple of houses now.

Something told him they weren't yet in the clear. HJ cast a glance over to his right just as Jimmy cried "Watch out!" and saw a neighbor horsing his sedan out of his driveway. HJ came to a quick stop about six feet from the driveway. The neighbor cast them a glance, looked puzzled, but then drove away. HJ hoped that he didn't call the cops.

They parked the car. It was a couple of feet from where Genelle had parked it, but HJ thought that Genelle wouldn't notice. At least he _hoped_ that Genelle wouldn't notice.

"That was _cool_!" said Jimmy as HJ turned off the ignition and set the Shift to Park. "But let's get out of here!"

"Not yet," said HJ. He picked up the hand towel he'd brought with him and started wiping down the steering wheel and the buttons for the radio.

"What are you doing?" said Jimmy.

"Getting rid of the evidence," said HJ.

HJ made some more swipes with the towel. Trained wizards had a spell like _Scourgefy_ but HJ didn't know how to do it. Besides, he didn't have a wand on him. He had to do the best he could.

"Anything I missed?" he said. Jimmy recovered enough to take off the hat band.

"Oh, yeah, that," said HJ. Jimmy tossed it in the back seat.

The boys got out: first Jimmy, then HJ. HJ draped the hand towel around his neck, then pushed the door lock button before closing it. _I hope this is going to be a real locked room mystery_ , he thought but didn't say.

The boys' luck still held: Mrs. Preston hadn't gotten back from the store, Mr. Preston was still out at the golf course or someplace else, and Mike and his friends were still at the lake. HJ had expected some shoe to drop at the last moment, but it looked like he and Jimmy were going to get away with it.

He thought about trying the same stunt with Mom's car and shuddered. They'd have been busted before they drove away from the curb. They'd been darn lucky.

"We did it," he said. "But let's not do it again."

-(((O-O)))—

Ottery St. Catchpole, Devon, UK  
Several years later

"Did you?" said George Weasley.

"Yeah," said Harry. "We got away with it. Jimmy's Mum came home a little later. She didn't see a thing. We did tell her that we found Genelle's car key on the floor."

Arthur Weasley had walked over to where the boys had been standing listening to Harry's acts of knavery.

"Did this Genelle ever guess what you'd been up to?" asked Arthur.

"Not really," said HJ. "Jimmy and I did own up to getting into her car and sitting behind her steering wheel. We never told her that we took it for a spin."

"Did she guess?" asked Arthur.

"I don't think she did. Besides, Jimmy and I were nine at the time. And after all, everyone knows that young kids don't know how to drive."

Harry Potter Morgendorffer* Harry Potter Morgendorffer* Harry Potter Morgendorffer

Author's notes: An advisory to foreign nationals resident in the US with or without documentation. Please DON'T imitate Harry James Morgendorffer's actions. The current presidential administration arrests and deports foreign nationals who commit far lesser offenses, no matter how long ago and no matter how young the offenders were when they committed them. Harry Potter Morgendorffer got away with his joy-ride by dint of the fact that he was not only a wizard, but he was incredibly lucky.

A word about this chapter: I rarely hear any of my characters talking to me. There were certain exceptions: my AU Daria Morgendorffer from _Daria Ravenclaw_ had things to say to me once or twice, as did another AU Daria from a _Wild Wild West_ crossover that's currently on hiatus, but most of the other characters kept quiet. This story's near-canon Draco Malfoy, who hasn't appeared yet, broke the silence and started ranting about Saint Potter the Muggles' friend, and that he couldn't possibly be as well-behaved as the stone-blind teachers and staff of Hogwarts thought he was. Despite the fact that I dislike Draco Malfoy and I know the young scamp growing up in an alternate-universe Austin suburb much better than he does, I was forced to concede that the Draco had a point. And so, admittedly with the Weasleys' flying Anglia in mind, I started work on this part of _Harry Potter Morgendorffer_.


	34. Daria's Support Group

Harry Potter Morgendorffer: Darias Support Group

DISCLAIMER: Daria is the creation of Glen Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. Harry Potter is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling, Wizarding World, and Warner Brothers. King of the Hill is the creation of Mike Judge and at last report belongs to Fox. It may soon belong to Disney. In any event, I don't own them and I don't intend to profit from this work of fiction.

Harry Potter Morgendorffer* Harry Potter Morgendorffer* Harry Potter Morgendorffer

Daria's discovery of her magical powers had another consequence, one that she was aware of, but had previously left HJ to deal with alone: Support Group. Once a week, young wizards and witches from Mundie backgrounds were placed together in circles and led through guided discussions led by MACUSA social workers. HJ had been going for over a year and a half. Daria had tried to get HJ to talk about them, but HJ had said very little, telling her that they were private, that the other kids were witches and wizards like he was, and that he was going to help them maintain their confidentiality. Besides, she wasn't a witch.

That had changed after Healer Hillier had tested Daria. Daria was now known to be a witch whether she liked it or not, and both of her parents and Harry's social worker Mrs. Kettler, now her social worker too, insisted that she was going to go to group whether she wanted to or not. So here she was with HJ sitting in a half-empty circle of chairs with a bunch of other kids that she didn't know.

Group was held at Hamlin House, a large, rambling three-story Victorian mansion south and east of Austin that ostensibly belonged to a historical preservation group but actually was the property of MACUSA's social services. The exterior and grounds looked very period, as did the grounds, but the interior had been renovated and magically enhanced to accommodate its new role. Most wizarding employees and clients apparated in or used the floos, Mundies and some wizards drove and parked their automobiles in the parking garage, a converted carriage house which had been magically extended to accommodate more cars.

Helen and Jake accompanied HJ and Daria to the door of the room where support group met. They were going to leave the two older children while they went to their own support group several doors down. Quinn hadn't come with them; she was over at a friend's house.

"Don't worry, Daria, you'll do fine," said Helen. Daria gave her parents a dubious look, then sat down in a chair next to HJ.

There were already some other kids in the room. HJ smiled and greeted some of them, waved at others. He obviously knew them. Daria had gotten glimpses of a couple of them earlier when she'd accompanied HJ to a couple of open mixers, although she only remembered a couple of names. Wild Squibs and Muggles were allowed to attend those if they were relatives and if they were discreet.

A woman came in, shorter and plainer than her Mom, and dressed in the sort of clothes that screamed "social worker" whether the person who wore them worked in the magical or non-magical worlds. Daria spotted the give-away: the woman was wearing a wand holster. Daria hadn't seen all that many people in Ruskin or around Austin dressed in Wizarding clothing, at least not during the latter part of summer. Most European-style wizarding clothing was tailored to colder climates, and Texas summers were just too darn hot.

"That's Mrs. Winstead," Harry said to Daria. "She's the group moderator."

Mrs. Winstead looked around the circle and spotted Daria sitting next to HJ. "You must be new here," she said.

"Yes, ma'am," said Daria. "I'm Daria Morgendorffer. I'm HJ's cousin."

"Ah," said Mrs. Winstead. "I'm Charlotte Winstead. I'm the moderator for the discussion group. So you're HJ's older cousin?"

"Not unless you count Cousin Erin in Virginia," said Daria. At least that's where she thought Cousin Erin was living. She wondered if HJ had any more cousins back in Britain.

"Well, before we get started, we have a new member with us tonight and I think we ought to make some introductions," said Mrs. Winstead. "This is Daria Morgendorffer. She's HJ's cousin."

"Elayne Poe," said a tall brunette sitting across from Daria and HJ.

"Iphigenia Witomsky," said a girl wearing a black tee shirt that proclaimed "LIFE IS OPERA!".

"Carlotta Pugh," a well-dressed and well-coiffed blonde girl said with a disdainful toss of her head. Daria gave her a glare, she did _not_ like being looked down on.

"The Hills telephoned ahead. They're running a little late," said Ms. Winstead.

"So that Bobby is going to be here?" said Carlotta. "He's such a dweeb." Daria didn't like the blonde girl's sneering tone of voice.

"Yes, he's going to be here," said Mrs. Winstead.

"Mrs. Winstead," said a tall brunette, "like that was really rude. The Hills should make it a point to be here on time. Maybe they should be excluded instead of excused."

"Miss Corker, Mister and Mrs. Hill both work for other people. Unlike other people, they do not have the freedom to set their own schedules. The Hill boy should be here tonight."

 _So_ _ **there**_ , thought Daria.

The Corker girl scowled at Mrs. Winstead's rebuke.

There was a knock on the door a few minutes later and a heavyset blond-haired boy with short blond hair and large waist stood at the doorway. "Sorry I'm late," he said.

"It's all right, Bobby, go on in, they won't bite you," said a voice standing behind the boy. A tall woman with short, dark hair and the biggest feet Daria had ever seen stood behind him.

"I'll take good care of him, Mrs. Hill," said Mrs. Winstead. Mrs. Hill smiled at her and closed the door.

"So let's go around and introduce ourselves," said Mrs. Winstead.

HJ watched Bobby's face as everyone introduced themselves. Bobby looked fascinated by Daria.

 _Oh, boy_ , he thought. _He's got it and he's got it bad_. He didn't know whether to laugh or feel sorry for him.

He suspected that he'd have to do some brotherly stuff later on: either telling Bobby that Daria wasn't interested or telling him that she wasn't available. He didn't know which way things would go.

-(((O-O)))-

Author's note: I mean to go back to work on Harry Potter Morgendorffer at some future time, but here's something I wrote a couple of weeks ago for my long-suffering fans.


End file.
